


Death Pending

by Oreneta



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Attempted Kidnapping, Badass Elisabeth Ashbury, Blood, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Human!Jonathan AU, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Spanish flu, Vampire Turning, now with art
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 37,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23989147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oreneta/pseuds/Oreneta
Summary: Jonathan Reid returns to London to take care of his ill mother, but quickly realizes something is lurking on the streets of London, under the guise of the Spanish flu. And he is ready to find the deep hidden truth, even if that puts him in the middle of an ancient battle for humanity.Basically a retelling of the story of the game in which Jonathan doesn't get turned into a vampire straight away.14/01/2021: Chapters 1 and 2 updated!
Relationships: Elisabeth Ashbury/Mary Reid, Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Comments: 93
Kudos: 209





	1. The Return

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters 1 and 2 have been updated with improved writing and pacing. Other early chapters will be updated soon too!
> 
> Current story progress is on hiatus until the rework is complete, thank you for your patience!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for clicking this fic! I didn't see this AU being done so I thought, why the hecc not?
> 
> 14/01/2021 update: Changed to the edited version! This one is longer and has better pacing than the first one.

London wasn't quite like Jonathan remembered. War and pestilence had taken a toll on its streets and venues. From the ship, the doctor could see the boroughs of the less fortunate, rubble and debris piled up on every possible corner. Many of the buildings had become derelict, and in order to keep the homeless away, doors and windows had been hastily boarded up. There were painted words on the walls as an offhand attempt to warn the masses. 

It was a grim experience, to be greeted with messages of "Danger!" and "Dead inside", but Jonathan Emmett Reid took a deep breath, inhaled the stagnant scent of river Thames, and looked ahead. He had no reason to care about such warnings, or to be put off by them. After years of being away, he had a family to reunite with. His sister, Mary, would be overjoyed to see him. She was most likely in need of support, after the loss of her husband and son. When he had received the letter, he was devastated. His poor nephew, taken away by the Spanish influenza at such a young and tender age. Life was cruel and unfair. 

And then there was his mother, Emelyne. She was thankfully unaffected by the flu, but she was old and frail; and her health had nothing but worsened over time. Ever since Jonathan’s father left, her mental state had slowly declined. The poor woman would hardly tell apart reality from delusion, having conversations with those long gone, or recalling memories as if she was living them. 

Mary was waiting at the pier. As soon as she had the chance, she jumped into his arms. Her hands were cold from the autumn winds, but her embrace was the most warmth he’d felt in a long time.

"Oh Johnny, I'm so happy to see you."

The hug lasted a few too many seconds. Jonathan felt her sobs and hiccups, so he waited for her to step away when she was ready. She needed this, never mind the wetness that was seeping into his coat on his shoulder.

"I missed you too." He finally said. "I am so sorry for what happened. And for not being there when you needed it most."

Mary looked at him, her pale blue eyes glassy and reddened by tears. Dark circles had formed around her puffy eyes, and her cheeks looked gaunt. Tragedy had not been kind to her body.

"But you are here now, dear brother."

Jonathan nodded. His luggage was heavy but he was ready to make the final walk home.

"I am. And I'm not leaving."

They walked to the West End with interwoven arms. It brought Jonathan memories of simpler times, when war and pestilence were only stories to be found in books. Back then, innocent and red cheeked, they would walk behind their parents in much the same way, shoulder to shoulder.

Avery looked older than the last time Jonathan saw him, with more wrinkles decorating his face, and his back angling forward even further. But, despite it all, the smile on his face when he saw the doctor was still the same. 

"Mister Jonathan!" He opened wide the door at the sight. "I didn't know you had already arrived."

Jonathan scratched his beard.

"Apologies, Avery. Mary wanted to make it a surprise, apparently."

Mary tilted sideways from behind Jonathan, so Avery could see her despite her brother’s towering figure.   
“Surprise.”

Avery chuckled and gently shook his head. He grabbed Mary’s coat as she took it off, and stretched his hand to hold Jonathan’s as well. 

“Thank you.” He said as he offered it. He had almost forgotten what it was like to have someone serving you, even if Avery was practically just another family member for the Reid. 

"Allow me, mister Jonathan." Avery stretched his hands out to grab the packed suitcase, but Jonathan moved it away.

"It is quite heavy. I will do that myself."

Jonathan would never forgive himself if Avery hurt his back because of his luggage. The man was too old to perform certain tasks, despite him being an excellent butler.

"It is no trouble for me. You must be tired from your journey."

Jonathan saw Mary smile from the corner of his eye. Though she was covering her mouth, her eyes gave her away.

"I insist."

Avery could be rather stubborn at times, so Jonathan changed strategy.

"I am thirsty, though. Could you prepare some tea instead?"

"Of course." Avery nodded. "I still have some of your favourite somewhere."

With that problem solved, Jonathan looked around. Nothing had really changed in the house from what he could see.

"How is mother doing?" Jonathan asked, and neither Mary nor Avery gave him a reply. The latter had coincidentally hurried off to the kitchen to prepare a welcome meal right as he asked the question.

Mary had avoided the topic on the way there. She had instead talked about the state of the West End, still resisting thanks to the setup of quarantines; and about the going-ons of all of their neighbours and old acquaintances. Both siblings enjoyed gossiping, and it had been pleasant for Jonathan to hear about the goings-on of old acquaintances. Still, the question had lingered in his mind.

The reply came in the form of slow, feeble feet descending the stairs.

"Jonathan, is that you?"

"Mother." 

He hurried to take Emelyne's hand, to help her get down the remaining steps. She looked frail, and her hand trebled in Jonathan's grasp. She was so pale.

"I am home." He reassured her.

"Good, good. How have the classes been? I hope you're not studying too hard."

Avery appeared in just the right moment to save the conversation. 

"The tea is ready to be served."

Lacing his arm with hers, Jonathan led Emelyne to the dining room. Mary followed behind, all semblance of happiness long gone from her face.

"Avery, remember to bring enough sugarcubes for Aubrey and Luc." Mary stiffened at those words. "Such a sweet tooth, they both have. Like grandfather like grandson."

Jonathan helped her sit down. She was more fragile than ever under his grasp, as if she would crumble into dust at any moment. 

"Are you feeling well, mother?" He asked.

"Oh Johnny, always putting others before yourself. You just returned home, so stop worrying about everything." Emelyne nodded at Avery when he filled her cup. "How did you get that scar on your cheek?"

Jonathan looked at his cup. It smelled fantastic. He had missed Avery's tea.

"I was in the war, in France."

Emelyne looked at him in disbelief, but then her face shifted into a vacant smile.

"Oh, hasn't Dylan also been in a war? You both could share your experiences."

Mary rose up from her seat. The contents of her teacup had spilled on the table.

"Excuse me." Were her only words before leaving. She didn't return to her seat for the rest of the evening, but if Emelyne noticed, she didn't say a thing. She was insistent on asking how Jonathan had been while away from home, and he tried his best to keep the conversation in a positive tone, avoiding the details of trenches, death and bullets that still terrorised him at night. 

Jonathan kept glancing at the empty seat on his left. Avery had cleaned up and apologised in Mary’s stead, commenting on how she would lately spend most of her time alone. With Jonathan’s return, she had seemed happier than she had ever been in months. Mary had always been the optimistic one, the one who cheered up anyone at any time. But now her smile was a facade that she struggled to keep in place. Jonathan hoped that with time and her old, upbeat self would finally return, especially now that he was finally home.

Jonathan scowled when he realised Avery had carried his suitcase upstairs while he wasn’t looking. One of those days, the man would have an accident and be forced to stay in bed, if he continued like that. With a huff, he climbed up to an upper floor that hadn’t changed one bit since he had left. It was comforting to finally be back in his childhood bedroom.

Said room was just like he had left it. Avery had seemingly cleaned the dust from time to time, but hadn't touched a single thing. Old tools and mementos from his days as a medical student decorated the shelves and assorted surfaces. They filled him with nostalgia as they brought back memories from more innocent days. 

Jonathan slumped on his chair. Two letters on his name were a new addition to his desk. One was from Pembroke Hospital, while the other was from Aubrey Reid, his father.

"Not today." He mumbled to himself as he put aside the latter and opened the former. 

  
  


_ Dear Doctor Jonathan Reid, _

_ As a great admirer of your work, and fellow surgeon, I was delighted to know that you were finally returning to London.  _

_ Here at Pembroke, we are at the frontline of a new war, one against the Spanish influenza, and we believe your talent and your skills would greatly help in turning the tides to our advantage. This is why we are more than pleased to offer you a job at our facilities. _

_ With regards, _

_ Edgar Swansea, director of Pembroke Hospital. _

  
  


Jonathan sighed. Pembroke was where he had first applied for his internship. A high standing hospital in the East End, now the most affected area of the pandemic. Was there even anything to consider? He had returned to help his mother, but he could also help London and her inhabitants at the same time.

Until dinner, Jonathan spent the rest of the evening settling in and reorganising. Old tools got put away and replaced with newer ones, the ones that had proven useful many times in the frontlines. He aired out the room, let the last rays of sun for the day illuminate the room. The stale scent of dust got replaced with the fumes of the city. It was miles better than the stench of gunpowder and blood, Jonathan believed.

The sun crawled under the roofs of London, until the city had been engulfed in darkness. Mary didn't join them for dinner. Avery explained that she had returned to her house for the night, as she did often. Though she would spend most of her time at the Reid estate, she still lived alone at the house she and her husband had bought.

The dinner only became increasingly awkward. Emelyne pretended that her late husband was also there with them, and had one sided conversations with him. Any attempts by Jonathan or Avery to bring her back to reality were partially successful. As soon as conversation waned, she would return to her delusion of a perfect family.

After the meal, Jonathan assisted Avery in getting her ready to sleep. It didn't take long, and afterwards the butler himself left to rest as well, but only after kindly reminding Jonathan not to stay up too late. In a way, it was comforting to be treated like a child once again.

Unfortunately, and despite having a full stomach for the first time in months, Jonathan tossed and turned in his bed, unable to find sleep. The bed was as comfortable as he remembered, and the house peaceful, but something had burrowed into Jonathan's brain that was keeping him tense, worried about nothing in particular. When he finally found some rest, it was cut short by a nightmare. The images of dirt, grime and blood, and the ringing of guns and cannons lingered in his mind. Cries of pain and regret as he was unable to save his fellow soldiers. 

He finally decided he was too restless to stay in bed. He put on a coat and opened the door to his balcony. The cool nocturnal breeze had always helped him clear out his head. But as much as he wanted to, he couldn't escape the consequences of the war and the pandemic. The street below was practically derelict. Many houses had been abandoned, and the lampposts weren't working. Despite being the West End, no one had seemed to bother cleaning up the mess.

Jonathan sighed. He instead looked up, at the rooftops and the dark sky. As expected, the stars were impossible to be seen, and the moon was seemingly nowhere too. It was only clouds, and the rising smoke of lone chimneys.

A blood-curdling screech brought Jonathan out of his reverie. It was immediately followed by a female voice screaming for help. Without hesitation, Jonathan ran downstairs to the front door and dashed through the alley that led to the backside of the house. His heart drummed against his chest, and not only because of the urgency of the situation. The screech had sounded human, but something about it was distorted,  _ wrong _ .

"I'm on the way!" Jonathan shouted as his shoes tapped against the damp cobblestone. 

The noises had come from a bit further down the street, but when he finally got there they had already stopped, and Jonathan feared the worst.

Under the dim light of the last remaining lamp, he saw a shadow of someone hunched over. Their clothes were ragged and dirty, and they breathed heavily against whatever was right in front of them. There was also a distinct sound of crackling and gurgling. 

Something was wrong, more so than he had initially believed. Alarms set off inside Jonathan's mind. He grabbed a loose plank propped against a rubbish bin before approaching.

"Hello?" He asked the figure. "I am a doctor. Do you need any help?"

Then the figure turned, and Jonathan's heart skipped a beat as his fears were confirmed. The being's eyes reflected back the light, just like a wild beast, and something dark dripped down its chin. It certainly wasn't human. 

With surprising speed, the creature lunged towards Jonathan with disfigured claws. He was quick enough to dodge and hit it on a shoulder blade with the board. A putrid scent had followed in its trail, a mix of fresh and old blood with the stench of decaying flesh. With that last strike, the monster lost balance for a moment, but quickly struck back. Jonathan shielded the attack with the board, which broke into splinters at the impact. He narrowly avoided another claw, and rushed to pick anything else to defend himself with. Jonathan was running out of breath. The creature had incredible strength, and hadn't he been military trained, he would have long been sliced into pieces.

Weaponless and desperate, Jonathan's hands pawed for something, anything, that he could use against the monster. His fingers finally felt the touch of a rubbish bin, and darted to take hold of its cover. 

The aluminum surface was good enough as a makeshift shield, if only for a few hits. Though unbroken, the material had bent under the creature's blows until it no longer resembled its original shape. Still, it kept Jonathan from being torn apart.

His luck was running out fast, as the metallic cover became more unusable by the instant and he was being forced to back off until he was against the wall.

It was right when Jonathan started to think that he would meet his end in that alley, that the beast suddenly stumbled sideways with a wet sound. A bolt had hit its neck, right at its main artery. It was now spraying blood all over the good doctor. Jonathan took the chance to kick the creature out of balance and move away from the wall. A group of armed men had rushed into the fray, some holding torches and machetes, others wielding crossbows. They stepped between Jonathan and his aggressor, without any fear or hesitation.

In one quick swing of a blade, the creature's head was cut clean; its lifeless body slumping on the damp cobblestone ground.

Silence had returned to the streets as Jonathan looked at the corpse, stunned. He had no words to explain what had occurred.

"Sir, are you alright?" One of the men asked.

Jonathan inspected himself. He was covered in blood, but thankfully none of it was his. 

"I am uninjured." He reassured the man. "Thank you for your assistance."

The man nodded. His mouth was covered with a mask, making it impossible to see his facial expression.

"It is our duty." He simply replied. Jonathan noticed they all seemed to wear a military uniform, though he didn't recognise it.

A different man holding a torch approached the corner where the creature had been when Jonathan had arrived. He flinched at what the light had revealed; the mutilated body of a woman, her face still twisted into a grimace of horror.

Her abdomen had been torn open, intestines and other organs clawed out of the cavity. Whatever was left intact of her skin was pale as a sheet, drained of all blood it had once flowed inside her veins.

"What a disgrace." Another soldier commented, while the torch holder retched in a failed attempt to contain his nausea.

"Who are you? What was that… creature?" Jonathan asked. 

The swordsman that had saved him began pushing him back to the main street, to a well lit location.

"Nothing a civilian should be concerned with. The streets aren't safe at night. Please, return to your house, sir."

Jonathan was taller than him, so he stood up straight to further impose his figure.

"Is this related to the Spanish flu?" A poor man's psychotic episode perhaps? No, neither explanation made sense. " I am a doctor. I would like to take a blood sample for analysis."

The man didn't budge, his brow furrowing. "This is no place for a doctor." There was a hint of anger in his monotone voice.

"I will leave as soon as I get the sample." Jonathan pressed.

The man finally relented, and let him extract some blood off the decapitated corpse under their watchful eyes. It was a good thing that he always carried medical tools and supplies in his jacket's inner pockets in case of an emergency. If he walked away to get them from his house, he was convinced he would be left with no corpse to extract it from.

The body looked human for the most part. It was covered in gashes and scars that had improperly healed, necrotic tissue and pus leaving little healthy skin for Jonathan to puncture. But what unsettled Jonathan the most were the twisted claws that had replaced its hands. This wasn't the work of the influenza. Something else was going on in the streets of London. Something those men knew, but refused to let the public know. And Jonathan Reid was determined to find out the cause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked! Chapter 2 is in the works and it will be longer! I'll release it sometime this coming week depending on my progress.  
> I have a vague idea of where this story will go but I'm open to suggestions/discussions on it! Also English is not my first language so I'm more than open to constructive criticism on my writing, or any grammatical error I may have made.
> 
> 28/7/2020 update: Art for this chapter added!


	2. The Search

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 14/01/2021 Update: Changed to the edited version! This one is longer and has better pacing that the first one. Next chapter edits coming soon!
> 
> Surprise! Got this finished earlier than expected so here you go!  
> This chapter is longer than the previous, and I plan on keeping them around this length unless I get stuck with some story element.
> 
> By the way, I forgot to mention I plan on adding some ship content later in the story (in specific Jonathan Reid/Geoffrey McCullum and Mary Reid/Elizabeth Ashbury). I will add the tags when they become relevant. 
> 
> Next chapter hopefully this week!

"You what?!" Mary was livid, her hands shaking as she paced around the lounge. "Out of all the hospitals in London, Jonathan, and you had to pick the most dangerous one to be in?"

Jonathan sighed. With his hands on her shoulders, he could feel the tension in her body. He ran one of his hands against her forearm as a comforting gesture. It only seemed to irate her further, but at least it got her to look at him in the eyes.

"Mary..."

"Don't." She stepped away from her brother's touch. "You're going to talk about how this is for the greater good, and that you're going to save lives. Well, I don't care. You just came home from the war, be selfish for once and just stay here with us. Do it for me."

Jonathan looked at those grief-stricken, clear blue eyes. They were beginning to well up with tears. She had seemed so much more cheerful earlier that morning, and now it seemed they were back at square one.

"I cannot do that. There is something strange about this strain, something that makes it different from the continental one. And I need to find out what." He had only had very little time to analyse the blood sample he got from the previous night. He had slept very little, too shaken up by his encounter with what had seemed death personified. Not much progress had been made, under the dim light and tools that were only fit for a student. Still, every bit counted and he had already noticed that something was off. 

"I promise you I'll be careful. If possible, I'll ask to work mostly in the laboratory."

That last part was a lie. He hadn't expected the situation to be that bad, given that the media was downplaying it. It was doubtful he'd be allowed to stay away from the infirm. Plus, Jonathan was as eager as any other doctor to save as many lives as possible. But Mary didn't need to worry any further. 

Defeated, she sighed and broke eye contact. 

"I don't want to lose you. Not you too." Her voice cracked with the prospect of tears.

Jonathan gave her one last hug before putting on his coat and hat and opening the front door. A gust of cold air blew loose raven strands around her head.

"You won't. I'll be back before dinner."

The last thing he saw before closing the door was the worry in her eyes.

Before going to the East End, Jonathan had one stop to make. He turned around towards a smaller street, the ever silent square with a fountain in the middle looked much worse for wear. Perhaps to prevent the spread of the virus, perhaps due to lack of maintenance, there was no water flowing in it. Only puddles of stagnated rainwater remained. 

Still, the building in front seemed unchanged by time and tragedy. Jonathan knocked the door nervously, excited at the prospect of seeing his old friend.

Clarence Crossley had been Jonathan's best friend since childhood. He too had been drafted when the war started, and Jonathan had been relieved when he received the news that he had survived, and arrived in London two months ago.

The one who opened the door, though, was a very familiar blonde woman.

"Jonathan! I'm so glad to see you. Please, come in."

"Hello Venus. I hope you and Clarence are doing well."

Venus Crossley, Clarence's wife and a dear friend to Mary, at least until Jonathan's sister grew distant after the loss of her child. She was dressed in an elegant dress as always, though he noted the fashion was slightly out of date. It was odd, considering how concerned with the latest fashion the woman was. 

"Well…Yes." Her smile faltered for a second. "How are you doing? You look… different."

It was no lie that the war had affected Jonathan negatively. He looked paler, with bags under his eyes from lack of a good night's sleep, not to mention the scars that now ran across his face. 

"Thank you for your concern. And you look as radiant as always."

"Ever the gentleman." She chuckled. "I'm afraid Clarence is still asleep but- oh, where are my manners? I'll make some tea before I go wake him up."

Jonathan was mildly surprised. Clarence had always been an early riser, but perhaps war had made him change that habit. Perhaps he had trouble sleeping much like Jonathan did.

"There's no need to. I was just on my way to the hospital."

He tried to ignore the knot building up in his stomach. Had Clarence changed much? Had he changed as well, to someone else his friend wouldn't recognise?

"Already back to work, doctor? Perhaps you could knock some sense into Clarence, then."

Jonathan frowned. 

"Is there something wrong with him?"

Venus crossed her arms and slumped her shoulders. 

"Ever since his return, he's been obsessed with this ridiculous idea." She huffed. "Vampires are real, he says. Can you believe it, Johnny? He hasn't even found a job yet. All he ever does is stay up all night spreading these unbelievable stories."

To say that was unexpected was an understatement. Clarence had been a dreamy child, ever fond of fantastical fiction, but he had been sensible enough to tell reality from such tales. Had something happened to him? After all, it wasn't uncommon for a former soldier to be afflicted with complex forms of trauma.

"I've seen many soldiers… coping in unhealthy manners. I will come back later to have a talk with him, but in these cases, time is the best cure."

Venus opened the door for him. She had an unreadable expression in her face.

"Time… of course." She forced back a smile. "See you later, then."

The walk to the hospital was uneventful. There was no sign of monsters roaming the streets, or strange men patrolling in search for them. People were walking down the streets as usual, or as much as it could be during a pandemic. It almost made it seem like it had all been a dream. The shift from the West End to the East End had been almost shocking. Jonathan had to admit his visits to the poorer boroughs had been sparse, but he still had the memory of them being a friendlier place. Now, houses were abandoned and shops closed. The homeless and sickly idled outside with nowhere warmer to go. If the situation didn't improve, they would soon fall victims to illness and cold weather.

The Pembroke Hospital was a downright mess. Part of the building was either in ruins or covered in scaffolding from unfinished repairs. There were rows of tents right outside the main entrance, all occupied by patients. It brought back memories of rushed campsites and injured soldiers being brought on by the dozen. Jonathan shivered at the image.

Nobody seemed to mind him as he entered. The many nurses and doctors rushed back and forth the halls. The floor looked like it hadn't been properly cleaned in weeks. There were more cots cramping the area indoors. Groans and coughs could be heard from every direction.

Eventually a nurse moved behind the reception desk.

"Sorry sir, the hospital is full." She spoke in monotone just like a rehearsed monologue. "Unless there's an emergency, you should go back home."

She had a foreign accent, though Jonathan had been taught better than to judge.

"I'm doctor Jonathan Reid. I've received a letter offering a position here."

The nurse eyed him from head to toe. She wore a bloodstained apron and a stern frown, and had Jonathan been a few years younger -and hadn't seen all he had during the war-, he'd have been intimidated by her. Jonathan had the letter in his pocket and ready to show to the shorter but imposing woman in case she doubted his words.

"Well, we definitely need some extra hands." She brought her hands to her hips, her posture more relaxed. "But doctor Swansea is away, I'm afraid. He will return in a couple days."

Jonathan didn't have two days. Not when it meant life or death for the many afflicted by the pandemic. Much less, if it was causing people to lose all sense of reality and become hostile, just as he had witnessed the previous night.

"And where could I find him?"

Jonathan had half expected her to say nothing. He still had many hospitals to visit if that was the case. However, the nurse did reply.

"He's on some private business at the East End docks. But I don't recommend a man of your status to go there unprotected." 

Despite her harsh words, her tone seemed one of sincere concern. "There has been increased gang activity and violence there in the past few days."

Jonathan nodded. "Thank you for your advice, nurse. I will keep my eyes peeled."

She flashed a brief smile. 

"Dorothy Crane. Pleased to meet you, doctor Reid."

"The pleasure is mine." He forced a smile before turning and heading outside again. In a way, returning to the hospital would be a return to the fast pace and high stress that was so common in the battlefield. Whether it was good or bad, that remained to be seen.

Aside from a few wary glances, no one seemed to mind Jonathan as he made his way over to the docks. While asking for information and some directions, he met a few neighbours in need of some medical assistance, and told himself he'd return when he had the resources and time to aid them. Thankfully, most of them had simple ailments that could be fixed with better habits and some simple medicines. 

Through that method, Jonathan learned about the tension between the local gang, the Wet Boot Boys and the workers' unionist group. Things had recently worsened with the murder of one of the gang members, which ended up in a revenge counterattack. This was nothing new in the docks, apparently.

What was out of the usual were the strange murders at night, supposedly by a creature of superstition the neighbours called the  _ sewer dog _ . Jonathan wondered if it was related to the creature that had attacked him the previous night. By the way the victim had been left, it could have been easily mistaken for a rabid dog. Certainly no human with a healthy mind would have done such a vile act.

He asked everyone, but almost nobody knew a thing about doctor Swansea, and the ones who did could only tell him what he already knew. For more information he was suggested to visit the Turquoise Turtle, the only pub open all day and night during such a crisis, and coincidentally the only one with available rooms in the area. 

It was small, the wooden building old but well kept. Despite lacking the elegance or luxury of the places Jonathan had been raised in, the pub was unmistakably cosy.

"Good afternoon." Jonathan greeted the man behind the bar, Tom Watts, according to his information.

"Oh, is it noon already?" Tom yawned as he absent-mindedly wiped a glass. "Well, good afternoon sir. What brings you to the Turquoise Turtle?"

Though Jonathan was clearly too elegantly dressed for the place, Tom didn't seem to mind or judge in any way.

"I'm doctor Jonathan Reid. I'm currently looking for a man, and I've been told you could help me."

Tom put down the glass and started cleaning another. "I could, but don't expect me to tell on any of my clients, sir. Who are you looking for?"

Jonathan glanced at the waitress sweeping the floor a few metres away. She had been staring at him for a while, understandably wary of the well dressed doctor. 

"Doctor Swansea, from the Pembroke hospital."

Tom nodded. "Yes, he's staying here for a few nights, god knows why. He is away at the moment, though."

By his voice, Swansea was not one of his usual clients. He also seemed confused as to why he was there, of all places.

"Any idea of where he is, or when he might return?"

The only other client at the pub, an unkempt man who was already beyond inebriated, handed a coin over the counter, and Tom wordlessly gave him a drink in exchange. The waitress glared at him before returning to observe Jonathan.

"I'm afraid not. He is away even late at night. He's a gentleman, but also an eccentric one."

Jonathan tipped his hat before leaving.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Watts. See you at another time."

"Take care, doctor."

Further search for doctor Swansea led him to the other side of the docks, across the canal. Jonathan met Enid Gillingham, an elderly lady with a case of dementia that reminded him of his dear mother. When she offered a cup of tea, he found himself unable to decline. It was ten minutes in her story about her son that Jonathan realised his identity. It was Jack Gillingham, the recently assassinated unionist. Still, Enid insisted that he was still alive, and taking care of her. She truly seemed to have no one else to take care of her. At one point she mistook Jonathan for one of Jack's friends, and gave him a letter from a man called Rodney Grader. As it turned out by the contents of the letter, Rodney was a colleague of Jack who had gone into hiding from the Wet Boot Boys in the worst possible place.

And that was all the rational explanation he had for why he had ended up in the sewers. He was worried for the man's wellbeing. The gang was possibly the lesser threat in the streets at the moment. His fear only increased when he found human remains and strange bloodstains scattered throughout the tunnels. He should have turned back at that point, but curiosity won against common sense. Though he regretted not bringing any light source other than a lighter. Navigation proved difficult, sewers tunnels partially blocked by locked doors and unreachable high areas. After what had seemed like an eternity of searching, he finally found the first signs of life.

Rodney Grader had built a shelter on some dead end of a tunnel. He had a handcrafted medical mask covering his mouth and nose, but by the way he was coughing, perhaps it was a bit too late for that. 

Jonathan managed to convince him to go back to the surface, or at least he hoped so. The man had insisted he go on ahead, since he first had to pack up his few belongings down there. Thankfully, from that side of the sewers he was able to unlock a shortcut that quickly led him to the surface. Rodney had been very clever in finding a hiding spot, though far from safe.

The sun had already set when the doctor was back at the beach. The mood had radically shifted as well. There was no sign of the fishermen and dock workers always moving about. The waters of the canal were still and devoid of moving boats. Armed men were now patrolling the area, their uniforms the same as his rescuers' the previous night. 

"Sir, it's not safe here." Said one of said men as the patrol approached Jonathan.

"Apologies, I lost track of time." Jonathan ran his hair through his fingers, a poor attempt to make himself look presentable. His walk through the sewers had not been a pleasant, or aromatic, one. Thankfully, no one had seen him come out of there.

"I was on my way to the Turquoise Turtle." Jonathan explained as calmly as he could. Something about the situation made him feel uneasy.

The men insisted they'd escort him there, which he wasn't sure if it was necessary until they found themselves standing against another creature. It was taken care of quite easily, fire and bullets enough to deter the monster. Though by the amount of gunshots Jonathan heard, either the men were bad at aiming, or the beast was more resilient than the average human. It was nonetheless a reminder that he ought to find the means to arm himself soon. Just when he hoped he was free from pulling any trigger or swinging any blade at another being. He was a healer above all, damn it all.

Jonathan didn't miss the way the armed men had called the creature:  _ leech _ . What they meant by that, they refused to explain no matter how insistently Jonathan asked.

With no other creatures in the way and back to safety, the armed men left him in front of the Turquoise Turtle and returned to their usual patrol. 

"Good evening, doctor." Greeted Tom Watts when Jonathan entered the pub. "You look like you need a bath, sir. Have you fallen into the river?"

Jonathan wrinkled his nose. "Something like that. Any news about doctor Swansea?"

The Turquoise Turtle was a bit less empty than before. The waitress was now busy serving the customers and Tom prepared the glasses without looking away from the doctor.

"Actually, yes. He's in his room now. I told him you were looking for him."

Jonathan tapped his fingers against the bar. 

"The men that escorted me here, they refused to tell me who they work for or what they are doing. Do you know anything about them?"

Tom's friendly demeanor didn't falter.

"That would be Priwen. They only showed up recently, don't seem to run into any trouble with the other gangs." 

A loud crash interrupted the conversation. Someone on one of the tables had dropped their glass.

"I'm on it!" The waitress rushed in with a broom.

"As I was saying." Tom continued. "I don't rightly know what they do but they come for drinks at dawn. They are good people. Most of them at least."

Jonathan hummed in response. The name didn't ring a bell, but they seemed too organised to have appeared overnight. It was good to know, at least, that they didn't have any intentions to rob him or stab him in a dark alley. They seemed some sort of militia, even.

With that out of the way, Jonathan gave him a quick thank you and walked upstairs. He could hear two voices talking, one of a man and the other of a woman. They were too muffled for him to understand, until he was right in front of the door.

"Your guest is here." The feminine voice whispered.

Jonathan knocked on the door. Determined steps approached, and the door opened.

"Ah doctor Jonathan Reid!" A man with glasses and a well trimmed moustache offered his hand. "At last we finally meet."

Jonathan nodded. "Indeed. Forgive me if I have interrupted some important business."

"That is not the case, dear colleague." He continued. "Oh, but please, do come in. Have a seat."

There was no one else in the room. In one side, there was a simple bed, and on the other a desk arranged to look like an office space. The door to the balcony was wide open. Jonathan stepped forward.

"Wasn't there someone else with you? I thought I heard…"

Doctor Swansea dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

"Must have been the wind. I was just working on my research and enjoying some fresh night air."

Jonathan didn't believe it. He sat down in front of the desk as the other doctor sat directly opposite of him.

"I wanted to talk about the position you have offered me at Pembroke Hospital ." He explained as Doctor Swansea fidgeted with his pen. "But most importantly, about my suspicions on the London strain of the influenza being different."

Doctor Swansea put the pen on the desk. His playful demeanor shifted into an unreadable expression.

"Really? And what makes you think that?" He knew something, Jonathan was sure of it.

"The infected on the streets have become not unlike violent beasts. A blood sample confirmed to me that the victim had the Spanish influenza, but there was something else there I haven't yet identified."

Swansea nodded. "Curious."

"Very curious." Jonathan leant forward, hands on the desk. "I have also encountered a militia that's been working on eliminating these infected."

Doctor Swansea said nothing, so Jonathan pressed further.

"And I suspect there are people who truly know the truth behind all this, but are hiding it from the general public."

His eyes locked with Swansea's. The older doctor had kept a neutral face, but suddenly he smiled.

"And are you ready to hear such a truth, my dear colleague?"


	3. The Discovery

The body had been drained of any blood. The man was a Priwen soldier, no direct relation with William Bishop, and the only useful item in his possessions was a note on the Guard's recent activity. 

"The trail continues on the other side of the river." Doctor Swansea pointed out. "My… acquaintance will continue from here."

Jonathan looked behind at the empty street. He felt watched, followed, but couldn't confirm his suspicions.

Swansea had told him about the skals, apparently a lesser species of vampires; the Guard of Priwen and the Brotherhood of Saint-Paul's Stole. It all sounded like irrational, crazy talk, but it was the only lead he had, and Swansea didn't sound like he was lying at the time. What he didn't talk about was his "acquaintance", who was investigating the murders with him. He only said that he'd introduce them to him at a later time.

"Follow me, to my boat." The eccentric man had started walking downstreet. "We will go to the reunion point."

They sailed by abandoned warehouses. Priwen guards patrolled the area, but didn't seem to mind them in the least. Jonathan spotted a figure above the rooftops. When he blinked, it had vanished.

"Change of plans." Swansea suddenly said, and veered the ship in the opposite direction. Jonathan almost lost his balance and catapulted himself into the waters.

There were growls and grunts coming from nearby. As they got closer, Jonathan heard the plights of a man with a heavy Irish accent.

"Someone's in danger." He stood up.

Swansea stopped the boat in the middle of the canal.

"Relax, Jonathan. Everything is under control."

The grunting eventually ended. Only then, doctor Swansea restarted the engine to properly dock the ship inside the warehouse. Jonathan was the first to disembark, in aid of the man slumped against the railing.

"He's just unconscious." He sighed in relief. He was injured, but nothing too severe or life threatening.

He failed to notice the figure raising up behind him, ready to jump towards his neck.

With a wet crunch William Bishop's chest was pierced through, and his dead body collapsed once again. All that Jonathan saw was a plume of dark smoke, and a woman appearing from thin air.

"Remember not to turn your back to a skal before making sure they are dead."

Despite being dressed in plain black trousers and jacket, the woman was nothing but elegant. She had red hair neatly tied into a bun and piercing emerald eyes. She was beautiful, but something about her gave Jonathan goosebumps. Some part of his brain insisted something was wrong, but his eyes couldn't find what.

"You…" Jonathan recognized that voice. "You were the woman at the bar."

"Ah, I see you've finally met." Swansea had left the boat and walked upstairs towards them. "Jonathan, this is Lady Elizabeth Ashbury. My acquaintance. And this, my Lady, is doctor Jonathan Reid. A new addition to the staff at Pembroke."

Lady Ashbury nodded. "Pleasure to meet you."

For a moment, her eyes seemed to pierce into Jonathan's soul.

"The pleasure is mine. I owe you my life, after all." Jonathan restrained a grimace.

The Lady disappeared into smoke, and was suddenly on the catwalk hanging from the ceiling. 

"Until we meet again." She said, before vanishing again, this time for good.

"Is she also a skal?" Jonathan asked as both men carried the injured man onto the boat.

"By the Stole, no." Swansea replied. "She is another kind of vampire. But it is rude to talk behind a lady's back. You should ask her the next time you meet."

Jonathan was left with a lot of questions, and a haunting impression of those eery green eyes.

The man turned out to be Sean Hampton, the owner of a shelter for the homeless and anyone else in need at the docks. They determined the best course of action was to bring him along to the hospital, to make sure he was fine.

"I have an empty office for you to stay the night, cot included." Swansea offered. " It's not safe to be outside this late at night anymore."

"If it's not too much of a bother." Jonathan replied. The cold breeze did nothing to soothe his nerves. "Thank you, doctor Swansea."

"Edgar is fine. The room also has a private laboratory for you to conduct your studies."

Jonathan looked at the building that had now appeared over the canals. The bright lights of the Pembroke contrasted with the darkness of all other buildings around. One last ray of hope in a sea of despair. His fleeting thoughts lead to Mary. She must have been worried sick for his well-being. He would have to make it up to her soon.

Edgar introduced him to the rest of the staff. There were three other doctors and two nurses, as well as the ambulance driver and the man keeping watch for the dead. With that little staff there were no shifts, and everyone took breaks whenever they had the chance or couldn't stand on their feet. Jonathan ended up helping around until it was almost dawn. He had only had three hours of sleep when he returned to the West End.

Mary wasn't happy, to say the least.

"Johnny! Where have you been? I was so afraid that something had happened to you."

Jonathan caressed her cheek. Her eyes were reddened from tears, and the bags under her eyes matched her brother's. 

"I'm so sorry. I lost track of time and spent the night at the hospital." He caught Mary examining him in detail. She couldn't have missed that he was wearing a different outfit altogether. "I promise I'll return tonight. I've already told Edgar I'd be doing my rounds in the West End."

"Edgar?" Mary asked.

The doctor told him all about the state of the Pembroke, his coworkers, and his patients. From the strange case of Thomas Elwood and his phantom pain, to the fight between doctors Strickland and Ackroyd on how to fix Mr. Fiddick's arm. He kept his investigations at the docks and discoveries about vampires a secret, knowing it would only worry his sister further.

Jonathan examined William Bishop's blood he had extracted right after his death, as well as the blood from the skal from the previous night, in the calm of his room. After a brisk lunch, he left for a walk around the neighbourhood in search of anyone in need of medical assistance. Despite the heavy rain, a woman stood in the middle of the street, protesting for women's rights on her own.

"Good evening, miss." He greeted the young woman. "What brings a lady like you to stay outside in this weather?" 

"A very good question, my very good sir. The rain will stop anytime, but our rights won't be changed unless we fight for them."

The woman put down her banner. Its message was thankfully still legible.

"I can respect that. But as a doctor, I must be concerned for your health. Surely a cold would only be a further obstacle." He saw the hint of a smile on the woman's lips. "I'm doctor Jonathan Reid, by the way. I work at the Pembroke."

"And I'm Charlotte Ashbury. If you so insist, I might take a break today. Or until it stops raining, at least."

Charlotte had brown skin and black hair. An absolute opposite from the mysterious lady he had met the night before. Though their manners of speech were far from dissimilar.

"Ashbury? I have heard that surname before." Jonathan tested the waters. Surely asking a random stranger if they were related to a vampire would be a bit too daring.

"I'm not surprised, doctor. My mother is one of the main benefactors of Pembroke Hospital." 

"Ah yes, that must be it." Jonathan saw a playful glint in Charlotte's eyes. Did she know anything he didn't? "I'll be doing my rounds now. If you need anything, perhaps to battle a cold, don't hesitate to look for me."

Charlotte laughed. "Thank you, doctor Reid. And good luck."

Jonathan continued his way, but he discretely turned his back to confirm the young woman had followed his advice. He didn't expect to bump against another man.

Pamphlets fell down on the ground, becoming nothing more that paper paste in the puddles. 

"I am very sorry, I- Clarence?"

Clarence Crossley looked much older and worn out than he remembered. He also had a scar on his left cheek, almost matching Jonathan's.

"Johnny? My god, it's you!" They both crouched down to pick up any pamphlets that could be salvaged. "Venus had told me you had returned. I was worried you were too busy to reunite with an old friend."

Jonathan took a closer look at the paper on his hands. _"Vampires are real!"_ was written in big letters at the front."Vampires?"

"Yes, Jonathan. They have killed hundreds already, under the guise of the epidemic. They must be stopped!"

Clarence had a look of fear in his face. His hair was disheveled, and his body frail and sickly. He clearly had gone through a lot.

"Are you sure about that? It all sounds very unbelievable."

"I'm not mad! I promise!" His voice was desperate. "I have proof, information from various reliable sources."

Jonathan took a deep breath.

"I believe you. I too have my suspicions that something more… perverse is hiding behind the epidemic. What have you discovered?"

Clarence was very thankful of Jonathan for believing him. He talked about the first time he witnessed a vampire feed, back in France during his service; and offered to take him to his office, where he had various documents on the subject.

Venus was pleased to see them both, until vampires were mentioned. Her smile faded in an instant, but not her manners.

"I'll bring you some tea, then." She said. "And Clarence, don't try to keep the doctor off his work for long, will you?"

It turned out that Jonathan's best friend had compiled texts written by both the Brotherhood of Saint-Paul's Stole and the Guard of Priwen, as well as a mysterious association by the name of Ascalon. 

"This is fascinating." Jonathan commented after reading on different species of vampires. "Where have you found all of this?"

"Here and there, scattered all over the city." Clarence replied. "Priwen must have a lot of copies that have been distributed amongst their ranks." 

Venus came in with a tray. The tea had already been poured onto the two cups she had brought.

"Thank you kindly." Jonathan went for a sip, when the woman practically ripped the cup away from his hand.

"No!" She shouted before regaining her composure. "I mean, that one is for Clarence. I have prepared them separately to match your tastes."

They looked the same to Jonathan, but he didn't say a word. Perhaps it was a recent habit of theirs, but some part of him believed something else was going on.

Venus relaxed when they each took the right cup. Jonathan found nothing unusual with his tea.

He left the house with a sour taste in his mouth. Not from the drink, but from this gut feeling that something wasn't quite as it seemed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Charlotte was difficult at first, then I rewatched all her in-game dialogues and became very fun.
> 
> Hope you liked this chapter! Next one will probably be done next week, this weekend might be a tad busy for me :P


	4. The Morgue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! Had a very hectic bunch of days so I ended up struggling with this chapter.  
> On the brighter side, here's a character I've been impatient to write about!
> 
> Posting this on mobile at 4am because I'm a mess, hope formatting doesn't mess it up!

It was no surprise that the hospital was running out of supplies. Nurse Crane appeared one evening in Jonathan's office, asking if there was anything left of use in there.

"We have run out of antiseptics, doctor." There was alarm in her voice. "Many patients won't make it unless we find some soon."

"There is nothing left? Not even in the storage rooms?"

Jonathan allowed Crane to look around his office. Just like she feared, there was nothing there.

"Storage rooms? We are not so privileged here at Pembroke. Everything used to be stored at the old morgue until it closed for sanitary reasons."

The doctor hadn't heard of the old morgue before. He knew that the hospital had seen better days, and that some areas had become inhospitable. He himself had heard late at night the growling of skals in the backyard. Something he had mentioned to Swansea, who promised he'd look for a solution.

"Is it possible to still access it?" Jonathan asked. "If so, I could go get a look. I also know of some techniques to create antiseptic with common household chemicals. Not as effective, but could work in a pinch."

The nurse was reassured by his worlds. Her shoulders slumped and jaw unclenched.

"That would be fantastic. The key is at doctor Swansea's office."

"I will be on my way then." Jonathan took out his jacket from its usual place at the locker, and put it on. Now he was ready. "You should take a break, if you've finished tending to the patients."

Nurse Crane huffed. "We are never finished. But thank you for your concern." 

Just as they got to the end of the hall, they heard loud, unfamiliar footsteps going up the stairs. Nurse Crane tensed up immediately.

It was a man as tall as Jonathan. He wore a worn out jacket and a red scarf around his neck. He paid no mind to either the doctor or the nurse as he knocked on Swansea's door and entered without waiting for permission.

"I'll be on my way, doctor." Crane excused herself. "Good luck."

Jonathan knocked on the door before peeking in. Thankfully, Edgar and the suspicious man were just talking.

"Ah, Jonathan! Come in." The older man seemed unbothered by the situation. "This is Geoffrey McCullum, leader of Priwen. He has offered to help us with the… infestation."

"I haven't accepted yet, Swansea." The man retorted with a heavy Irish accent. "We won't help a member of the Brotherhood for free."

As McCullum turned around, Jonathan spotted the sword hanging from his hip, barely concealed under his long coat.

"Ah, but surely you would like to return the favour to the hospital that has tended to your injured soldiers."

McCullum clicked his tongue.

"Just this time, and only because this area is becoming a nest of leeches." 

Edgar took out a set of keys from his pocket. He dangled them in front of McCullum in a teasing manner.

"Take these then, and clean out the old morgue as well. That's where most of the skals hide during the day." Edgar explained.

"I was about to ask for that." Jonathan chimed in. "Nurse Crane asked me to fetch supplies from the old morgue. Apparently she didn't know about the dangers within."

"I'm not bringing a civilian with me." McCullum grunted.

"I assure you I can defend myself." Jonathan had found out a few days ago that Milton Hooks was selling weapons and other dubious items. Knowing full well the current situation, the doctor turned a blind eye, but not before purchasing weapons for himself.

McCullum stared down Jonathan. As threatening as the hunter's blue eyes were, he didn't budge.

"Fine. But if something happens I'm not responsible."

Jonathan followed McCullum to the streets, where a few of his soldiers were waiting. One of them offered McCullum a modified crossbow, which he tied around his arm. An ingenious contraption, Jonathan thought to himself.

"McCullum, sir." A soldier gave a military salute. "We have scouted the surrounding area. There are three skals in the yard. We don't know how many are in the building, but we suspect there's a blinker."

"Thank you, Finsley." He then turned to face Jonathan. "You don't expect me to let you come unarmed, do ya?"

Jonathan replied by opening his jacket, revealing a dozen of hidden pockets. He had a revolver and a club carefully stashed along with miscellaneous supplies.

"Impressive. Not what I expected from a doctor."

The backyard area was cleaned out quickly. There were only a couple skals too distracted feeding from an unfortunate victim to see the attack coming. Jonathan found Milton's wallet, which he pocketed to return later. As soon as they entered the morgue, Jonathan knew nothing good would come out of this. He saw wisps of smoke fade away as fast as they appeared, and was reminded of Lady Ashbury.

"What was that?" A particularly young soldier asked, and McCullum shushed him. 

The group split up, with some remaining at the entrance to keep watch and the rest going upstairs. Jonathan followed McCullum to the first floor and, as they cleaned up the rooms, he picked up whatever chemicals he could salvage. 

The doctor proved his worth when a skal jumped towards the now panicked young soldier. He was quick enough to blow the skal's brains out with a point-blank headshot, saving the other man. A veteran soldier then cut the beast's head off to make sure it died.

"Nice shot." A certain Irishman commented.

McCullum pointed out how most windows on that floor were broken, and light could easily enter in during the day. Most skals would probably still be hiding in the basement, so they had to be ready.

Once all the rooms have been checked, McCullum and his men helped Jonathan bring out boxes of supplies. The team downstairs hadn't run into any issue, and had eliminated a couple of skals that had tried to flee from the confrontation upstairs.

"I want you all to be prepared for the worst." McCullum commanded. "Stay in line and keep your weapons ready. I'm looking at you, Johnson."

As soon as they walked down, Jonathan smelled the tell tale sign of putrefaction mingled in with the stale air of the corridor. Aside from something scratching in the distance, there was absolute silence. Jonathan's heart drummed against his chest. He hadn't been that tense since he had left the battlefield.

Two men carrying torches lead the way, with their captain following closely after. As soon as a shadow moved, McCullum shot it with his crossbow. The beast screeched before lunging forward. Two more skals followed.

Jonathan helped in the fight. The group was quickly overwhelmed. As soon as they would get rid of a skal, two more appeared. Someone screamed. Jonathan stepped back to reload and look at the fallen man. He had a bleeding wound on his shoulder, deep enough to have torn open both cloth and skin. While two soldiers were fighting the responsible skal, Jonathan rushed to the man's aid. He was able to clean the wound and stop the bleeding. His experience had made him master the application of first aid at top speed, so the man was quickly lead away and Jonathan was soon back into the fray. 

Thankfully, no one else had sustained any serious injury during his absence. Eventually, skals stopped pouring out into the corridors. There were enough dead bodies to form a pile. McCullum ordered a temporary retreat. Everyone was breathing heavily and sweating, and the lead hunter was wise enough to know those weren't the conditions for a second round.

Jonathan didn't stop to rest, though. He made sure the wounded man was stable, and then checked any scratches the other soldiers had.

"Thank you, doctor." Many expressed gratitude.

Jonathan felt McCullum's eyes on him, still locked on that usual frown of his. The doctor wondered if he was being judged or if that was just his resting face. Not like it mattered either way.

Once everyone was done with their break, they returned to the basement. The injured recruit was told to wait outside or return to the hospital, but he insisted he could still fight. McCullum called him a reckless fool, but Jonathan noticed how he stayed particularly close and made sure he didn't get harmed again. Things would have been much different at the trenches if troop leaders had behaved the same way, instead of willingly sending men off to their death.

The bulk of inhabiting skals had already been dealt with, so cleaning out the rooms turned out to be a simple task. Jonathan also found many more supplies, as well as some case files Edgar would appreciate getting back. He also found a recently deceased man on a table. The cause of death on his file didn't match what Jonathan saw.

"What's wrong?" Urged McCullum to keep moving.

"It's nothing." Jonathan lied. He would have to have a serious talk with doctor Tippets afterwards.

It was in the last room where they found what Priwen had called a blinker. The skal could jump into the shadows at breakneck speed, unlike the others Jonathan had seen so far. Landing any hits deemed to be impossible.

It suddenly blinked to the left of the doctor. Its claws tore through the side of a soldier's coat.

"Circle formation!" McCullum ordered, and the wounded man and Jonathan were suddenly shielded from all sides. He wasted no time in stopping the bleeding. Thankfully, the man hadn't been hurt in his dominant hand and could continue fighting.

It seemed in vain, though. No matter how hard they tried they could barely harm the skal.

"McCullum. Did you notice how it stopped after the attack?" Jonathan pointed out. He had an idea. A terrible one.

"What are you suggesting?" He replied. By the look in his eyes, he knew. But he also knew the risks.

"Cover me." Jonathan stepped forward and out of the circle, just next to McCullum.

"You-" black wisps appeared before McCullum could finish. His sword flew across the skal's neck with eerie precision.

Jonathan had barely managed to twist backwards to only be grazed by bestial claws. He felt blood trickling down his chest. The skal's body collapsed.

"You fool!" McCullum shouted. "You could have died."

Someone kicked the skal's head away.

"It was a calculated risk." Jonathan replied coolly. The truth was that his heart was pumping and his adrenaline rushing. He didn't know what had pushed him to trust the Irishman that much.

"You're lucky I'm quick with a blade." He sheathed his sword. "But you should stop testing that luck, Reid."

No more harsh words were directed at him afterwards. Everyone silently packed up the supplies Jonathan could find and returned upstairs. The place was now secured, so they returned to the main hospital building.

Nurse Crane had been waiting with nervous anticipation. 

"Doctor! You're bleeding!"

Jonathan cringed. His white shirt was now dyed red, and it stuck wetly against his skin. Only now that he was out of danger was he starting to feel the sting.

"It's just a few scratches. No need to worry." He insisted. "Please, tend to Mr. Howard instead." Once everyone's wounds but the doctor's had been properly dealt with, the Priwen guard got ready to leave.

"Tell Swansea our job is done." Said McCullum. His face suddenly softened. "I appreciated your help down there, Jonathan Reid. We would have lost lives without you."

The two men locked eyes. Jonathan couldn't find any trace of falsehood in them. Under that light, he was able to notice the little details about the other man, like the exhaustion on his face and the messy stubble, but also the small lock of hair that refused to be held up and his prominent jawline.

"No need to thank me. I was simply doing my job."

McCullum was the first one to look away. He turned to leave, but stopped halfway.

"You know, we don't have enough medics in Priwen at the moment."

There was a hint of something on his face. Hope, perhaps?

"My place is here, fighting against the pandemic." Jonathan immediately stated. "But I'm willing to lend a helping hand whenever I'm required."

McCullum nodded.

"I'll keep in touch then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked! I'll try to have next chapter done by this weekend, if life gives me a break for once.


	5. The Cards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a short chapter! It ended too well to add something else afterwards :3c

To Edgar's dismay, Jonathan did keep meeting McCullum. They met during his rounds, and he usually ended up helping in killing some skals, or in providing some first aid to his soldiers. Meanwhile, Edgar insisted about the evils of Priwen, and how much information they destroyed.

"McCullum is a brute, a woodsman!" He said every time.

But Jonathan knew otherwise. Sure, he seemed to have an irrational hatred towards any sort of vampire, but he was a bright man. He was a good leader, a skilled fighter and a clever strategist. He admired him, in a way.

One day, while Jonathan was tinkering in his laboratory, Edgar knocked at the door.

"Good evening Jonathan. Are you busy at the moment?"

Jonathan straightened his vest and combed back his hair. His back cracked from sitting for so long.

"I could use a change of pace. Is anything the matter?"

He had made sure all his patients were in a good condition that morning before locking himself in. But in an epidemic, new patients were bound to appear at all times.

"Nothing to worry about. I have contacted the primate of the Brotherhood of Saint-Paul's Stole, and he would like to meet you today, if possible."

Jonathan looked out the balcony. The sun would set in about an hour. Jonathan had already told Mary and Avery that he'd stay at the hospital for the night.

"Today? This late?"

"He keeps an unusual schedule." And who didn't these days? Jonathan almost rolled his eyes. He had found many people out in the streets late at night during his outings with Priwen.

"Very well. I did say I needed some fresh air."

They took Edgar's private car to get to the West End in time. As they drove past the streets they found the first Priwen patrols of the evening. They didn't mind them, probably not even recognized them. The men and women were casually talking and laughing. It made Jonathan wonder where all of them came from, and what made them join the guard.

Shops were closing at Temple Church by the time Jonathan and Edgar arrived. All but the general store, of which Jonathan knew the owner. Perhaps afterwards he'd go greet her, if they were still open.

Jonathan didn't expect to be lead to a dead end just next to the church. Down some stairs and into what seemed like a crypt, there was a man sitting behind a table. He was shuffling some cards under the dim candlelights. 

"Jonathan Reid! At last we meet." He stood up to shake his hand. "The cards told me this was the perfect moment." 

"The cards?" Jonathan asked.

The man spread some cards on the table. "They tell me the truth, most of the time." He flipped them all one by one. To Jonathan's eyes it was just a random combination, but the man frowned at them.

"And what do they say, mister...?" Jonathan thought it best to indulge the man, as much as he didn't believe in fortune-telling.

"Usher Talltree!" A very different voice shouted from behind all three men. Edgar practically jumped in place. "So this is where you've been hiding all this time."

Geoffrey McCullum was across the hallway. His hand hovered above his sword. Talltree didn't seem too worried.

"Good evening to you too. I take it you're not here for a card reading." He shuffled the cards back into a pile.

"You're not welcome here."

"Shut it Swansea." He walked past both doctors and slammed his palms on the table. A candle fell off and rolled on the stone floor. "Tell me all you know about the skal epidemic."

Instead of replying, Talltree took a key from his pocket and opened the chest behind him. He took his time rummaging through it before taking out a small wooden box. McCullum took a step back and gripped the handle of his sword. 

"That won't be necessary. We are scholars, not fighters." 

Usher opened the box, revealing a different suit of cards. The back was beautifully detailed, with geometric patterns of shimmering gold.

"You are more than just a scholar." McCullum grit his teeth. "You're not fooling me."

The late hour, the strange behaviour… Could Usher Talltree be a vampire? Jonathan looked at Edgar for any confirmation, but the man was too busy glaring at McCullum. 

The hunter suddenly turned to face Jonathan.

"Are you with them, Reid? Have you joined the Brotherhood?"

All eyes were now on the doctor. Siding with either group would antagonize the other, and as desperate for knowledge that he was, he didn't want an enemy out of McCullum. 

"All I want is to solve this epidemic. Nothing more, nothing less." 

Talltree nodded.

"He isn't ready to join us." He added. "He still has a choice to make."

McCullum sneered. "You still haven't told me a thing."

Talltree's expression became sombre in the blink of an eye.

"I don't know much more than you. A Disaster is coming, and we might not be able to stop it."

"The epidemic, the skals on the streets… Is this just the beginning of something worse?" Jonathan asked. 

"Indeed, doctor Reid. But the cards are unclear, it is not too late."

McCullum huffed and rubbed his eyes. He looked as tired as ever.

"The cards this, the cards that… Sounds like a load of bullshit to me. How do we know you're not just a lunatic?" 

Edgar was not happy. His patience had worn thin.

"McCullum you-"

"That is not needed, Edgar." Talltree stretched an arm, palm towards the angered doctor. He then spoke to McCullum. "Please, amuse this madman. Let me read the cards for you all three."

Over the course of the conversation, McCullum's body language had shifted from hostile to simply unamused. Perhaps he was starting to believe that the man was truly harmless. He crossed his arms and snorted.

"Very well."

Jonathan and the other two men stood in front of the table. Talltree placed a card in front of each, and then flipped them one by one.

"As I expected, bullshit." McCullum turned towards the exit. "I'm done wasting my time. Goodbye."

Jonathan looked at the three cards. In front of Edgar, there was the figure of an angel playing a trumpet above pleading men. The card was upside down, facing Talltree. Judgement.

McCullum's card had Adam and Eve being overlooked by an angel. The lovers. No wonder the hunter had left without a second thought.

The card in front of Jonathan was the most unsettling. Despite knowing it made no rational sense, and that it had landed on the table by pure chance, he couldn't tear his eyes away from it. A skeletal knight riding a white horse, people begging at their feet.

Death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'll try to get the next chapter done sooner as compensation.  
> Things have been a bit rough for me. At the risk of oversharing, my cat has been diagnosed cancer on his ear, and yesterday underwent radical surgery (meaning his ear was completely removed). He should be okay now and there're no signs of metastasis, but the days between the diagnosis and the surgery have been very stressful.   
> Anyways, things should improve now, so I'll work on keeping this fic going! Thank you all again for your time <3


	6. The Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I ended up finishing this chapter sooner than expected. There's a POV change and a small diversion from the main story, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.  
> I swear this is building up to something!

The streets at night weren't safe for a lady, but Mary Reid was a woman with a mission. She had been shopping for a gift for her mother when she saw a familiar figure on a car. During the past week, Jonathan had barely been at home. He claimed he was busy at the hospital, treating patients and investigating the epidemic. Mary suspected otherwise. 

Hospital work didn't cause tearing in clothes, or require being armed at all times. Jonathan had tried to hide it, but Mary was no fool, and knew when her brother was hiding something.

The gift could wait. Mary watched the car turn at the corner. They were probably heading to Temple Church. The car was parked and its users long gone by the time she got there. 

Price's shop was the only one not closing for the evening. A woman was on the counter while a younger one sat on a chair reading a book.

"Good evening!" Greeted the older one. "How can I help you?"

"Sorry, I'm not here to shop. I'm looking for my brother. Tall, dark hair and beard, his name is Jonathan Reid."

The woman's face lit with recognition. "Oh, doctor Reid! I haven't seen him since he left to France."

"You know him?" Mary asked. 

"I was a patient of his. How is he doing? You said he's grown a beard?"

Mary almost made a face of disgust. It was clear to her that the woman had feelings for Jonathan. But Mary knew his type, and it wasn't her. 

"He is… Very busy with his work. No time for his family at all."

Mary noticed the younger woman was now watching them, her expression neutral.

"I see." The older woman's smile faltered. "If you see him do tell him to come by, please. I'll be offering him my best prices."

Mary turned towards the exit.

"Of course." She lied. "I'll be on my way then."

Out in the streets, Mary met a Scotland Yard investigator and a pair of strange twins. None of them had seen Jonathan.

"I've heard Aloysius Dawson, owner of  _ Dawson & Dawson's  _ hasn't been doing well." The detective, Charles Albright, offered. "Since your brother is a doctor, perhaps he's at his house."

Mary clutched at her coat. The sun had set, and it was starting to get cold.

"Thank you. I will look for him there then"

"Be careful." Albright warned before she left. "There have been cases of missing people in this borough."

That didn't deter Mary from wandering out in the dark. The streets looked grim past the quarantine area. Most houses had been abandoned, and many vandalized. Aloysius Dawson had refused to leave his house when the disease spread. Instead, he remained locked inside with a crowd of servants and bodyguards protecting him. As Mary reached the house though, she realized that meant the place was inaccessible for a random woman at night. She decided to wait outside the door instead, at least for a few minutes.

She reminisced of the better days the streets had seen. Not that long ago, people weren't so afraid of going outside during the early evenings. Many would stroll around the park, shop around or visit the theatre. Now, not even the latter was possible. The theatre closed temporarily months prior. There were rumours that Doris Fletcher and her troupe were planning a new play, but there was no sign of that being true. And things looked grim.

Mary heard voices in the distance. She hid behind the corner and hoped the shadows were enough to avoid being seen. She had heard about armed men, thugs, roaming the streets at night. People who would attack anyone on sight. She didn't expect to see any of them in the West End, of all places. 

The men carried guns and blades. Instead of lamps, they held torches. Mary tiptoed further into the darkness of the alley. The men went their way, and Mary decided it was time to go home. Then she felt something touch her shoulder. 

Before she could shout, another hand was pressed against her mouth. It was freezing cold, and smelled faintly of metal. The stench intensified when a light breath approached her ear.

"What do we have here? A beautiful lady in distress." A husky voice whispered. "I better take her somewhere safer."

Mary kicked her captor's shin. She pushed and kicked and punched but the man was an immovable wall. 

"Stop that." He ordered, and suddenly her body didn't respond anymore. Panic and adrenaline surged into her brain like a tidal wave. She was being kidnapped. She was being kidnapped and there was no one there to help her. 

"Good girl." His face was so close she could almost feel his lips on her skin. Her body was not paralyzed enough to suppress a shiver.

Mary was pulled backwards and her vision became a blur. Once the world stopped spinning she realized she was on top of a rooftop, still in the hold of her captor. Her body was responsive again, but her knees felt weak and her head hurt. Possibly from being abruptly ten metres above the ground.

Was this how her life would end? Her name in the papers, her body probably never found. Would it be quick, like her husband's, or slow and painful like her son's? She probably deserved the latter. For being a coward, for letting them die. She closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable to come.

She didn't expect to find herself freed and falling down. She slid down a few centimetres before she could stop herself right at the edge of the roof. She heard grunting and slashing, as well as two pairs of feet dancing on the tiles. She opened her eyes to see two silhouettes fighting. A dark fluid would splash out of them after being hit. It was too dark, and she was too dizzied to understand what exactly was going on right in front of her. The figures moved so fast they were a blur of shadows. 

It ended as fast as it started. There was a gurgled shout, then a body slid down right in front of her and fell down to the streets. Some a warm stream of liquid reached Mary's hands. She forced herself not to look at it, and instead focused all her remaining strength on sitting up.

There was a woman standing up on the roof. Her slender figure was dressed in black. Her updo had become loose, and strands of red floated in the breeze. Her face turned and her eyes reflected the moonlight for a brief moment. Mary's breath caught at the sight of a bloodied rapier in the woman's hand. But instead of pointing it at her, the woman dropped it, and helped her stand up.

"I'm not here to hurt you." She reassured, and Mary felt compelled to believe her. "Has he done anything to you?"

Mary shook her head. The woman's hands on her were cold. Despite the cold of the night, there was lack of steam coming out of her mouth. Mary should have been scared. A part of her brain was shouting internally.  _ Danger! Run away! _ But she wasn't frightened in the least.

"That's a relief." The woman gave her the gentlest of smiles. " _ You should sleep. _ "

Her whispered words echoed inside her head, stopped any other train of thought. And then Mary blacked out.

She woke up with a startle. She was somewhere warm, under the softness of blankets. 

"Mary! How are you feeling?" 

Mary looked around. She was in her old bedroom. Jonathan was on a chair right next to the bed. Worry was painted on his face. He looked like he hadn't slept at all. His hair was a mess. It reminded her of the mornings after a younger Jonathan had spent the entire night studying.

"How did I get here?" She sat up.

Her hair had come undone in her sleep, but she was wearing the same clothes as the previous night.

"An officer found you unconscious on the streets. There was blood on your coat." He sounded a bit hoarse. "What were you doing outside at night?"

"What was I-" Mary almost fell off the bed. She was still dizzy from whatever had happened on that roof. "What were  _ you _ doing at night? You have been more concerned about your damn hospital and about doing god knows what than about us! Johnny, you've just returned from a war! You should be at home. With mother, and with me."

Jonathan held her arms and helped her back into sitting on the bed. 

"I'm sorry. I've been too obsessed with my research." He admitted. "When I heard what happened to you, I was terrified. I wouldn't know what to do if I...If I lost you."

Mary gave him a hug. For some reason, she found some relief in the fact that he was warm to the touch. Tears escaped her eyes.

Neither of them spoke until Mary properly calmed down.

"You should take this." Jonathan placed a bottle of medicine on the table. "It will help you recover faster."

"You and your doctor potions." Mary teased. "Thank you."

Jonathan left briefly to bring her some soup Avery had made. In the time it took him to return, she debated on whether she should tell him what had really happened. She ultimately decided against it. Jonathan was a man of science. He wouldn't believe she had been kidnapped by a man who could jump to a roof and saved by a woman with glowing eyes. He'd say that she must have dreamt it. But she knew what she saw was real. The blood on the coat was proof enough. And she wouldn't be able to get out of her mind that silky red hair and that mysterious, elegant silhouette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading! And yes, there's going to be Lady Ashbury/Mary Reid content (although secondary) because my tiny lesbian hands can't be stopped :3c
> 
> Small update on my cat, his injury is healing really well! Thank you all for the positive messages <3


	7. The Question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! From this chapter onwards there'll be original characters in very minor roles. Mostly Priwen guards cause we don't really have any in canon except McCullum? (And the mini bosses which I don't care about).
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy!

When Jonathan heard the news from a very alarmed Clarence, he immediately ran home. Carolyn Price had mentioned Mary was looking for him, but he didn't think she'd venture out of the quarantine zone on her own.

Policemen had brought Mary to her bed, in the bedroom she still had from before she moved out with her late husband. She was unconscious, but her breathing was steady and the natural redness of her cheeks was still there. That soothed Jonathan's nerves.

"Is she injured?" He asked the agent.

The man showed him the coat she had been wearing. There were small bloodstains on the edges and the sleeves.

"Not that we know. We believe this blood isn't hers."

Jonathan nodded. Whose blood was it then? She hadn't just fainted on the streets, but what had happened then? Something didn't add up.

"Could it have been the work of a vampire?" Clarence asked when the agent left. Authorities l had taken the coat for investigation, which meant Jonathan wouldn't be able to study the blood.

"There are no signs of blood loss." Jonathan pushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. "Mary, who did this to you?" He whispered.

"What if a vampire… tried to turn her?" Clarence paced around the room. He almost seemed more anxious than Jonathan.

Jonathan's hand flew to her wrist. Her pulse was steady. If she was truly turning, she'd be slowly dying before reawakening, from what he'd read. 

"Could you stop talking about vampires?" He raised his voice before he could stop himself. In truth, the idea terrified him. If she awoke as a vampire, would she try to kill him? Would she be rational, like lady Ashbury, or a mindless monster like the skals on the streets? And most importantly, would Jonathan be able to kill her? He rubbed his temples. Everything was much simpler when he didn't know blood-drinking creatures of the night were more than scary tales to frighten children. Even their existence defied all known laws of nature. It made no sense.

"Johnny?" 

Jonathan was suddenly pulled out of his pessimistic thoughts. 

"I apologise. Exhaustion is getting to me."

Clarence was now still, brow furrowed.

"You should rest." He told Jonathan. "And I don't just mean a good night's sleep. You should stop working for a few days. Take your mind off this… everything that's happening right now."

Jonathan sighed. Clarence was right, just like Mary had been for days when she asked of him the same thing. 

"People need me. If I don't act now, more lives will be lost."

Clarence was in front of him in an instant, an unreadable expression on his face. He put his palms against each of Jonathan's cheeks and forced him to look into his eyes.

"Stop that. Stop believing you're so important. You're a doctor, so what? You're human. You can't stop an epidemic on your own. Let others do the job. Let others help you for once."

Jonathan wasn't convinced, but he nodded anyways. Clarence let him go and opened the door.

"I'm not leaving until you go to bed. And have you eaten anything? I'll ask Avery to make you something."

Jonathan couldn't help but smile. When was the last time someone babied him like that?

"As you say, mother." He joked and got a chuckle out of his best friend. He hadn't realized how much he had missed his company until now.

Jonathan tossed and turned in his bed. After Clarence had left, he tried to go to sleep like he promised. It was harder than expected. There was so much on his mind: Mary's incident, Usher Talltree's cards, the skals that were very likely lurking around in the streets behind the house… Even when he pushed that aside, his mind would drift to his research, to the results from the samples and new ideas to test. He would've rather be working than waiting for dawn to come. Still, there was an exhaustion in his bones and muscles that kept him down on the mattress. And eventually, he fell asleep.

There was red in his dreams. It was viscous and heavy, and it kept him from moving. A figure appeared before him, made of the same fluid. It looked human, except for the horns on his head.

The figure whispered. He wasn't moving his mouth, but Jonathan somehow knew it came from him. The words were unintelligible, just a mumbling echoing inside Jonathan's head.

"What?" Jonathan managed to ask. "I can't hear you. Who are you?"

The horned man tilted his head.

"You will have to make the choice soon, child." 

He vanished into a wave of red that splashed Jonathan. He sunk into that red, and was soon unable to breathe. He was drowning, no matter how much he struggled to reach the surface. But there was no surface to reach, only red.

Jonathan woke up in a cold sweat. He was fine, he was breathing, he was alive. The nightmare had been the most vivid he'd ever experienced in years. Most dreams were based off of past experiences, but he had no idea what could have inspired such imagery. 

He didn't want to sleep anymore. He headed to his desk and began to run some tests. He didn't have the material or space that he had at Pembroke, but it would suffice. When he became too restless and unfocused to keep researching, he snuck up to Mary's room. He was relieved to find her still sleeping soundly, now in a different position. He sat on a nearby chair and waited for her awakening.

Dozing on and off on a chair was not the idea of healthy. It ended up giving him a headache and muscle pains around his neck. Avery woke up before Mary did. He made Jonathan breakfast and forced him to eat it before returning to Mary's side. 

"Mary sure is sleeping up late this morning." Emelyne commented innocently. "Jonathan, why don't you go wake her up?"

Jonathan forced a smile. "Of course, mother."

Mary did wake up not long after. Jonathan brought her some soup Avery had made, and waited for her to finish before asking what had been bothering him all night long.

"What happened yesterday night? Did anyone hurt you?"

Mary lowered her gaze to the empty bowl.

"I can't quite remember. I must have passed out by accident. It was really cold outside."

Her expression was unreadable. Jonathan was good at detecting lies, but with Mary he could never tell. They were both too similar in that aspect, though from which parent they inherited such trait was still a mystery to Jonathan.

"Not a thing at all?" He pressed.

Mary said nothing. She kept looking down, eyebrows scrunched up in deep thought. She lightly shook her head.

Jonathan sighed. He wanted to reach for Mary's wrist again, make sure her pulse was still there. But he didn't.

"Promise me you won't do it again." He scolded. "It was extremely reckless of you!"

Mary rolled her eyes, but her smile was genuine. He missed the times when it would show up more often.

"Oh dear brother, what ever shall I do without your sage advice?" Jonathan crossed his arms. "You win, Johnny. I promise." She stretched her arms out, and Jonathan embraced her. She was still warm.

They had an uneventful lunch. Mary was rested enough to be with them at the table. Emelyne reminisced about previous vacations in France, and it brought a semblance of normalcy in the household. Afterwards, Jonathan met up with Clarence and told him what Mary had said.

"Vampires can hypnotize people." He commented. "Bend our minds to their will."

Jonathan remembered his meeting with lady Ashbury. Edgar considered her a friend, and she saved Jonathan's life, but could she have been manipulating them without their awareness? No savage skal could do such a technique, which meant that if Clarence was right, Mary's aggressor had to be a powerful vampire. He would have to ask Edgar for further information.

They both went to investigate the place where Mary had been found. Unfortunately, the place had been clear of any potential clue.

"Damn it!" Clarence kicked a can on the ground. Debris and rubbish had been slowly piling up in the streets, even in the usually well-kept West End. "What do we do now?"

There was no trace of blood or violence. In fact, despite the amount of skals wandering at night, Jonathan had yet to find any remains during daylight. Someone was doing a great job at cleaning the corpses. Jonathan suddenly realised who was responsible.

"I have an idea." He offered Clarence. "Have I told you I've met the leader of Priwen?"

They found an early patrol on the outskirts of the West End. Jonathan recognized one of the hunters.

"Good evening." He approached the group. Clarence followed behind hesitantly. "I believe we've already met?"

The short but bulky soldier eyed him up and down. He had a hat and scarf that covered most of his face. 

"Oh, you're the Pembroke doc. What was your name again?"

Jonathan towered over the man, who seemed unfazed by the height difference. 

"Jonathan Reid. And this here is my friend Clarence Crossley." 

A few guards started muttering upon hearing the names. The short man lifted a bandaged fist and everyone went suddenly quiet.

"I'm Ed Haywood. And I won't bother introducing these disgraceful bastards. They're only leech bait after all." There was no actual spite in his words, only a mocking tone, but none of the other men dared to respond.

Clarence clenched his teeth. Haywood was reminiscent of a strict sergeant, and was probably a patrol leader in Priwen. 

"I hope it doesn't come to that." Jonathan replied. "Pleasure to meet you, by the way. We're looking for Mr McCullum."

Haywood hummed, eyes crinkled in amusement. 

"Going to finally join Priwen? He's at Stonebridge Cemetery. The place is an absolute mess, so I'm sure he'll appreciate the help."

Clarence took a hesitant step forward. "We're not-" Haywood's icy cold stare stopped him in his tracks.

"Aren't you the one spreading those pamphlets around?" He accused. "Nice try, but you're only making a fool of yourself."

Surprisingly, Clarence didn't come up with any defence. Jonathan stepped up.

"That's enough! We are not joining your… militia. Not everything has to be resolved with needless violence. Now if you'll excuse us, we will be on our way."

Jonathan wondered if Haywood had even been drafted to the frontlines, seen the horrors of war. Perhaps he was too young, considering the high pitch in his voice. Or perhaps he was just a thug who relished in other's suffering.

Haywood stared back at Jonathan with a menacing frown, one reminiscent of a gang member out for blood. But after a couple of very tense seconds, he laughed.

"I like you, doctor. No wonder McCullum keeps talking about you." His shoulders slumped back into a relaxed position, and Jonathan's did the same. "Go on then. We have no reason to stop you."

They departed in silence, and when the soldiers were out of earshot, Clarence spoke.

"What a bunch of brutes." He spat out. "This is why I don't trust them."

Jonathan had to admit there were many bad eggs at Priwen. War veterans, former gang members, and vengeful men who had nothing to lose. But their work was important, and Jonathan was willing to turn a blind eye if it meant the streets would be kept safe every night.

Jonathan and Clarence picked up the pace. They would have to hurry up if they wanted to reach the cemetery and return before dusk. They ended up taking Jonathan's car and driving though Whitechapel, earning them some harsh stares from the impoverished community there. 

"This feels straight out of a Penny Dreadful." Said Clarence once they reached the entrance.

The cemetery was in a poor state. Autumn leaves piled up in every corner. Many gravestones had been shattered, and by the looks of it, rather recently. Jonathan and Clarence spotted many a dead rat left to rot in plain sight.

McCullum was on his own, kneeled before a grave. They decided to wait for him to finish before approaching, but after a few minutes of him still there, Jonathan thought best to intervene.

As he walked towards the hunter, he could hear him speak.

"... but you never gave up on me. Remember the failed prototypes? You were bloody pissed when I almost hit you with a bolt."

To McCullum's trained ear, Jonathan's footsteps were hard to miss. He stopped his monologue and stood up with a tired sigh. Jonathan read the name on the tombstone: Carl Eldritch. 

"The man who raised me after the death of my parents. Both killed by vampires." McCullum spoke without facing the doctor. "My father returned to Dublin a vampire. Killed our mother before our eyes and turned my brother Ian into one of them."

Jonathan was speechless, surprised by McCullum's willingness to expose weakness. There was still pain in his voice, loss.

"Carl taught me to hunt, helped me kill Ian with my own hands." Geoffrey continued. "He was a great leader. Better than I ever will be."

Jonathan took a step forward, placed a hand on the other man's shoulder.

"You are more capable than you give yourself credit for."

Geoffrey turned his head slightly. His eyes were now on the doctor, a bit glassier than usual. This wasn't a fearless warrior, this was a man who suffered, and didn't want others to go through the same.

"Perhaps. I still had so much to learn from him."

They stood in silence for a few more minutes. The sky clouded up, and the low rumble of thunder could be heard on the distance. 

"My sister was attacked yesterday night." Jonathan finally spoke up. "She remembers nothing, but we suspect the workings of a vampire. Has any of your patrols seen anything?"

In just a fraction of a second, McCullum's attitude returned to his professional self.

"Sounds like a fancy leech was involved. I will ask around, tighten the security around the West End."

"The most strange thing, is that she was uninjured. No signs of bites and violence."

McCullum frowned at that. 

"Are you sure about that?" He fiddled with his crossbow. "Keep a close eye on her. She could be a victim of mind manipulation. The leeches who are interested in more than bloodsucking, those are the most dangerous ones."

Jonathan was reminded once again of Lady Ashbury. Did she have any ulterior motives to help Edgar?

"I will stay on guard, then."

The first raindrops started falling. There was some time left until sunset, but the thick clouds had brought some darkness to the streets.

"I should head back home." Jonathan saw Clarence waiting awkwardly at the other end of the square. "Thank you for your assistance."

McCullum nodded. "Stay safe."

"I should say the same." Said Jonathan before leaving. He looked back to the hunter one last time after reaching Clarence. McCullum gave one last nod to the tombstone and descended the stone steps further into the cemetery. He was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, as usual!   
> I struggled a bit with characterization and pacing in this chapter, so let me know if anything felt a bit off. I'll have next chapter done someday next week :D


	8. The Flowers - Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the late update!   
> I've lately been struggling to find inspiration plus I've bitten more than I could chew with this chapter (hence why it's going to be split in two parts).  
> Anyways, hope you enjoy!

As it turned out, Jonathan was incapable of doing nothing and relax. After a couple days, he had ran out of samples to test. They were all too similar in nature, and gave nothing new for the doctor to discover. 

Mary had recovered rather quickly. As soon as she was back on her feet, she asked Jonathan to please leave of his room and go shopping with her. She wanted to gift something to their mother, and deemed necessary Jonathan's input.

They bought new painting material. Perhaps with new brushes and colors, Emelyne would be inspired to create something again. They found a set of paintbrushes in a delicate wooden box with gold ornaments, and a rare set of blue tints that reminded them both of summer skies in France. 

But Mary insisted they needed something else. A bouquet of flowers wouldn't be all that hard to get, except shops were low in stock, and Emelyne's favourite flower was nowhere to be found. They scoured the entire West End to no avail.

Hyacinths flowered mostly in spring, and wilted quickly after being plucked. The closure of many greenhouses during the war made them all the more sparse. Jonathan pointed that out, but ended up being dragged by Mary to the East End. 

"I've been told there's a very beautiful flower shop in Whitechapel." She said as she walked in the quarantine area before her brother could stop her. "Owned by a young, mute florist. Isn't it intriguing?"

"Being unable to speak doesn't make one more mysterious." Jonathan remarked. And he was right, but Camellia was certainly an enigma. Nobody knew her real name, or where she came from. But the neighbours insisted she had the best flowers in London, and that's all that mattered to Mary.

Her shop was small and quaint. She had flowerpots right at the entrance, in every corner, and even hanging from the ceiling. The blend of blooming plants gave off a confusing yet enticing aroma. It made Jonathan feel both calm and wary at the same time. 

As Mary tried to communicate with the young woman, Jonathan inspected the flowers more closely. They were all carefully labeled in fine handwriting. Under the common names there were the scientific names, as well as other words.

"Lilly of the valley." Jonathan whispered to himself. " _ Convallaria majalis.  _ Humility, sweetness, trustworthiness."

Jonathan approached the two women. Camellia was showing Mary all her flowers, while she insisted she only wanted hyacinths. 

"I noticed you are very knowledgeable about flower language." Said Jonathan.

Camellia stared blankly at them. 

"Pity they don't have any." Mary told him. "All the flowers here are so well taken care of. Possibly the most beautiful in London."

That seemed to make Camellia's lips twist upwards, if only for an inch. She returned to showing Mary more plants, and this time she delighted in their colors and scents.

"Look, Jonathan! I haven't seen peonies in years."

In the end, Mary bought a bouquet made of pink peonies, white carnations and yellow roses. It looked stunning. 

"This will bring some life to the manor. Mother will surely love them." 

Jonathan nodded as he held the door open for his sister. It was when he turned to close it that he saw it with the corner of his eye. A small piece of paper hidden behind a flowerpot.

"What is it?"

Jonathan pocketed the paper with a frown. 

"It's nothing. We should head home before it gets too dark." 

He looked at the state of Whitechapel. It had always been a very poor borough, but under the merciless claws of the epidemic, the population was further impoverished. Jonathan struggled to turn a blind eye to the street workers and homeless resting in every corner. He would have to prepare enough medicine for his next rounds.

A hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality. In the blink of an eye he was facing his aggressor, right hand on the gun under his coat. A familiar man with a red scarf around his neck was standing with his hands up and a smug smile.

"Remind me to never startle you again, Reid."

Jonathan let out a huff and released his grip on the firearm. Mary looked at both men in confusion.

"McCullum. I wasn't expecting seeing you here."

The hunter shrugged. 

"I happened to wake up early." He said, despite being late in the afternoon. "Saw you two with the flowers. Your… wife?"

Mary stood up straighter.

"I'm his sister. And you are..?"

She was looking at McCullum intently. Definitely judging him by his ragged wardrobe and thuggish appearance.

"We're simply acquaintances." Jonathan clarified. "We were buying flowers for our mother."

McCullum raised an eyebrow.

"In Whitechapel? Not a safe place for people of your status."

Mary's scowl deepened. Jonathan placed a hand on her shoulder.

"We were looking for a specific flower. Sadly, flowers are a rare luxury in these times."

McCullum scratched the stubble on his chin.

"No luck, huh? I can keep an eye out, if you want. What are you looking for?"

"Hyacinths." Jonathan continued after seeing McCullum's face of confusion. "They're purple, small flowers growing in rows in a same branch."

McCullum hummed.

"No idea. But I'll let you know if I find anything."

Mary tugged lightly on Jonathan's sleeve.

"We should hurry back. The bouquet may wilt."

Jonathan nodded. Days were getting shorter as they slowly approached the winter solstice. More time for creatures of the night to prey on the defenceless.

"And I should be getting ready for....work." McCullum added. "See you around, Reid."

After walking a few streets, Mary broke the silence.

"What is the nature of your relationship with Mr McCullum?"

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "As I've told you before, we're acquaintances."

Mary nodded. She seemed like she wanted to say something, but she didn't.

As soon as they got to the manor, they gave Emelyne the presents. Her mood brightened significantly, and spent the evening trying to paint the flowers and testing the new colors.

"Have I told you children about my favourite flower?" She asked with eyes still locked on the canvas. Her usual vacant expression was now gone, a moment of lucidity that brought Jonathan memories of better days. From before the war, and before Aubrey, their father, left them without an explanation. 

"What is your favourite flower, mother?" Mary asked. She had told that story countless times, but both siblings wanted to hear it once more. 

"Hyacinth was a handsome Spartan prince." Emelyne started. "Such was his beauty, that even men fell for him. Apollo, ancient god of the sun and the arts, was one of them. And they became lovers." Emelyne giggled. "Don't look at me like that, children. Love can have many shapes, and it should not be a crime."

Mary rolled her eyes. Jonathan smiled and nodded. It was a poorly concealed truth, a secret Jonathan had seen many people try to hide. Lingering touches, the need for companionship during war. He hoped that one day such love would be accepted.

"We know, mother." Said Mary.

"As I was saying," Emelyne continued. "Hyacinth and Apollo became lovers. But that made the other gods in love with the mortal grow displeased. One day, the lovers held a friendly quoits competition." 

Emelyne suddenly sobered, but continued nonetheless.  "Zephyr, god of the west wind, watched them throw the discus with jealousy. In a fit of rage, he made the discus fly towards Hyacinth's head. The wound was fatal." 

There was a beat as Emelyne assessed her children's reactions. Mary mocked surprise, while Jonathan nodded solemnly. 

"Apollo was also the deity of medicine, and he tried everything to save him. But not even the gods can defy fate, and Hyacinth died in his arms. From the blood that had spilled, Apollo created the most beautiful flower of all. To honor his memory forever."

There was a moment of comfortable silence after the story ended. Emelyne had long stopped painting. The canvas was still a combination of blue hues with a blank spot at the center, where she had penciled in the vague shape of the flower base. 

"Such a beautiful, but tragic story." Jonathan commented. Although he had never experienced the pain of losing a lover, he had lost many fellow soldiers during the war. Being unable to save them despite how hard he had tried had always pained him. It never got any easier. Just like killing. Why did he feel a twinge of remorse with the skals, as well?

The conversation soon lightened up. Avery called them for dinner, and afterwards Emelyne continued her work on the painting. She lost track of time, and both Jonathan and Avery had to take her to her bed at midnight, hours past her bedtime.

Despite going to sleep soon after, Jonathan woke up far before dawn. The red nightmares, as he had started to call them, had started haunting him almost every night. They were never as intense as the first time, when the strange figure had appeared, but they still made Jonathan awake shaken and soaked in sweat.

To spend the time, he tiptoed to the library in search of a book to read. They had everything on the shelves, from classics and historical fiction to books on medicine from when Jonathan was still learning. He had read most of their collection, Jonathan realized, and ended up spending a few good minutes looking for something new to read.

Finally, a book caught his eye. A far cry from what Jonathan usually enjoyed, but after his meeting with Camellia, he wanted to know more. It was a book on the language of flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading!  
> I'll be taking a two week break from posting so I can have at least a chapter in advance. Hope you don't miss me to much! I'm happy to see this fandom being so active and if you haven't, I recommend checking out the other fics in the tag :D


	9. The Flowers - Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand I'm back! Thank you all for the patience.
> 
> I now have more chapters completed ahead of time so we'll be back to weekly updates.

There was an unmistakable sound of coughing. It was deep, hoarse. Jonathan couldn't ignore it.

He knocked on the door. After a few seconds, it opened slightly, and the face of an old man peeked out.

"Who is it?" A rough voice answered in an equally as rough accent.

"Mr Petrescu?" Jonathan asked. "I'm doctor Jonathan Reid. I'd like to ask a few questions."

Darius Petrescu frowned.

"Who sent you?" His voice cracked and spiraled into another coughing fit.

"I am simply doing my rounds. Please, allow me to help you."

The door closed, and to Jonathan's relief, opened again to its full extent.

"Please, come in. I don't have much but I can make some tea."

Jonathan stepped in. The house was small, overtaken by press machines and stacks of paper. It was far from disorganized, but the lack of space made it look like a clutter.

"That's not necessary. I wouldn't wish to take much of your time." The doctor replied.

Petrescu moved aside some papers and sat down on a small, round table. Jonathan sat on the opposite end.

"How are you feeling? When did the symptoms first appear?"

Petrescu cleared his throat before speaking.

"Just some coughing and chest pain. I don't have a temperature or signs of flu, rest assured."

Jonathan nodded and rummaged around the many pockets of his coat for the right medicine.

"Sounds like a case of bronchitis. Not very serious, but left untreated it can worsen into pneumonia." Jonathan handed him a vial carefully labeled with its ingredients and purpose. "Please, take a teaspoon twice a day and rest whenever possible."

Petrescu eyed the bottle wearily. 

"I don't think I can afford this."

"I'm not asking for any payment. This is simply a service to the community." Jonathan took a deep breath before continuing. "But there is a favour I would like to ask of you."

There was a long pause. Jonathan half expected to be forced out of the house.

"So you've found out. Better than the police, at least." Petrescu replied in defeat. "What are your real intentions?"

Jonathan ran a finger down the table and its many cracks. The wood was worn out, but resisted the weight of time nonetheless.

"If I wanted to report the dispensary, I would have done that by now, believe me. Nurse Crane is a competent worker, but I must make sure she is making the right choices."

Petrescu snorted. The throaty sound devolved into another coughing fit. 

"An astute one you are, doctor. But I can't trust that easily a man born with a silver spoon in his mouth, doctor or not." He stood up and filled a glass of water for himself. "You don't know how it is here. The hunger, the violence, seeing neighbours die every day. The people need her."

Jonathan nodded. He couldn't know first hand, but he'd walked the streets. He wasn't blind to the struggles of the residents of Whitechapel. Not anymore, at least.

"And of what help can she be if she doesn't have the proper environment? The proper tools?" Jonathan lowered his gaze. "I have been at the trenches. I've seen men die not by the hands of other men, but by infection eating them from the inside out. I've seen how poor choices and limited resources can mean life or death, Mr Petrescu. And I would rather not see that again."

Silence. Only the vehicles outside and the creaking of old wooden beams could be heard.

"Dorothea knows what she's doing. She is more competent than what you believe." He stood up, went to the kitchen and started heating up some water. "Through the back door, the building across the yard. It's not locked."

"Thank you." Replied Jonathan. He headed for the door, and was hit by the rare noon sunshine. 

Nurse Crane wasn't at the ground floor. There were many cots, all of them filled with barely conscious men and women. He quickly assessed all of them before walking upstairs.

"Who's there?" Asked a distant voice. As Jonathan reached the floor, nurse Crane came into view. "Doctor Reid? How did you find this place?"

She was wearing a blood soaked apron as she tended to a man in a cot. He seemed to be convulsing. Jonathan ignored the question in favor of examining the man.

"What do we have here, nurse?"

Nurse Crane only spared a glance before holding the man's shoulders to keep him from falling off the mattress.

"Razvan Vasile. High fever running on almost two days. Complaints of dizziness, muscle aches and head pain. Diagnosed with Spanish influenza."

It only took Jonathan a second to realize the situation.

"He's not convulsing, he's struggling to breathe. We must act fast."

They had very limited resources, no anaesthetics and a far from sterile environment. Jonathan was able to stabilise the man by releasing the fluid from his chest cavity, but with his current illness and the lack of antibiotics, he probably wouldn't last much longer. 

"Thank you, doctor." Nurse Crane washed her hands in a pail of water, which then offered to Jonathan. "Let us hope for the best now."

Jonathan was in no mood for small talk. Although the patients were all well treated, nurse Crane had much to explain.

"Why are these people here, instead of a proper hospital?" He demanded, using his height to his advantage. "And how is this illegal business keeping afloat?"

If nurse Crane was intimidated, she certainly didn't show it. She sat down by a table with a list of patients and their current situations.

"They are immigrants, refugees. Most of them don't speak English, many are them don't have the means to seek help."

The names on the list were proof enough of that. Almost all of them were clearly Romanian, or from somewhere else in eastern Europe. 

"That I can respect, nurse. But what about the funding? Surely none of your patients is in a position to donate."

Dorothy Crane was as direct as ever. 

"Blackmailing, extortion. There are people out there who don't deserve their fortunes. Take Lady Ashbury as an example. She donates to the Pembroke, but I have proof she is involved with the death of many patients, doctor."

Jonathan raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. Was Edgar allowing such a vile act? He had to get to the bottom of this. Still, he couldn't allow the hospital to close due to any bad rumours. Not when many lives depended on it.

"Let me propose a deal. You will stop the blackmailing, and quit your job at the Pembroke. But you will continue your work here, and I will purchase… rare resources and ingredients you may obtain."

"Are you saying you'd become my business partner?"

"More of an esteemed client. Fair and square."

Dorothy Crane stood up. Her surprise soon morphed into a playful smirk. She stretched her hand out to the doctor.

"Then we got ourselves a deal."

And a handshake made it official. Afterwards, the former nurse showed her stock to Jonathan, who purchased a few boxes of pills he could reuse into more useful medicaments, as well as taking a closer look at some of the patients with serious complications. Jonathan could finally confirm that the unusual strain was not exclusive to the Pembroke, and took a few blood samples for later inspection. 

Darius Petrescu eventually knocked on the door, asking if everything was doing well. He was relieved to find out about the deal they had struck, and brought some tea to the two medical workers.

Jonathan lost track of the time while examining patients and old files, and before he realized, the sun was setting.

"I should be on my way." He stood up and put on his tweed coat. "Thank you for sharing this information, Miss Crane."

The nurse was a few metres away, cleaning up the mess a patient had accidentally made.

"Dorothy is fine, doctor." She replied without taking her eyes off of the floor. "May I call you Jonathan?"

"Of course." He offered a gentle smile. "I will be back soon. Take care." 

He heard Dorothy wishing him well as he left the building. The cold and damp London air on his face made him realize how exhausted he actually was. 

Nevertheless, he wanted to return to the Pembroke hospital soon, and ask some questions to the director and his coworkers. Questions about a certain lady's suspicious activities.

Before heading home, Jonathan passed by Camellia's shop again. He only needed a glance to confirm that the stock hadn't changed, and that there still were no hyacinths to be found. Just in front of the church, there was a priest shouting about the incoming doom. Unpleasant, but harmless, and Jonathan would have ignored it were it not for a certain set of words.

"God has shown me visions of red, a queen slumbers dressed in blood. And when she awakens, all hope will be lost."

Jonathan climbed up the stairs with determination. It was surely a strange coincidence, the irrational part of his brain looking for patterns where there were none.

"Pardon my interruption. I would like to know more about those… visions."

The man had a strange air of pridefulness, unbecoming for a priest, but not uncommon amongst them.

"Worry not. Father Tobias Whittaker is here to answer your questions."

Jonathan hummed.

"I am doctor Jonathan Reid. I'm currently investigating the epidemic."

"A scientist?" He almost spat out the word. "You truly need my guidance."

"How did you get those visions?" Jonathan gracefully ignored the comment. "Could you describe them further?"

Mr Whitaker's voice softened to a murmur.

"I see her in dreams, a laughing queen sleeping among the dead, feeding on our fears. This epidemic is the announcement of her return. Against her, science is but a toy."

"A laughing queen?"

"The mother of harlots! An abomination of nature. Babylon herself, drunk on the blood of saints."

"I have heard enough." Jonathan took a deep breath. Whitaker was a zealot and a bigot, but none of those words sounded like he was purposefully lying. Something about what he had described unsettled him.

First vampires, then the cards and now the supposedly prophetic dreams. Perhaps he was going insane. Perhaps the fumes from the Thames and the epidemic were getting into him. Perhaps the sleep deprivation.

After the disturbing exchange, all Jonathan wanted was to return home. But forces that be wanted otherwise, and the doctor ended up running after shouts of "Leech!" and "It bit me!". A group of Priwen soldiers were fighting against a group of skals by an unlit alley. One man held his neck with a hand to stop the bleeding, while another man was keeping the beasts away with a torch. The familiar figure of Ed Haywood was fighting back with his bare fists, but was losing due to the sheer number of skals after him. Jonathan didn't hesitate to take his revolver out and shoot at the creatures. One of them dropped dead after a headshot, and another was distracted enough to receive a right hook against the wall. Its skull was crushed with a visceral sound.

There was one skal left, the one with fresh blood on its mouth. Jonathan finished his round on him and Haywood was able to give the final blow. He was panting, but was otherwise unharmed.

"I could have done that on my own." He lied in between gasps.

"Of course. But one can never be too cautious." Jonathan replied as he cleaned the other soldier's neck wound and bandaged it. It looked ugly, but he would survive.

"If only McCullum didn't give me the worst teammates." He glared at them, and they flinched in response.

"I only do that because you're incapable of working in a team."

Geoffrey McCullum walked in from the main street. He kicked a dead skal away from his path. 

"Dr Reid. I didn't expect to see you here." He had a hint of a smile in his eyes.

"I could say the same thing." He refilled the revolver chambers without glancing before pocketing it. "Though I assume you are patrolling as usual."

The breeze swayed a stray strand of hair on the hunter's forehead. Jonathan had the urge to put it back in place.

"Aye. I'm making sure all the main patrols are doing well."

"The doctor here saved these rookies' arses." Haywood interjected. 

"Nobody asked ya." McCullum grumbled. Haywood rolled his eyes, but said nothing more. "Continue your patrol. I will escort the doctor back home."

"There is no need to-" Jonathan was stopped by McCullum's stubborn glare. "Thank you kindly."

McCullum huffed in amusement. 

"Lead the way." 

The well-lit area of Whitechapel was relatively safe, with neighbours still out and about despite the danger. As they walked away and towards the makeshift wall that separated it from the West End, the area became more sinister. Jonathan heard skals from afar, but he didn't fear them. He felt safe around McCullum. 

"So," the hunter talked once they reached the West end access. "Any luck finding the flowers?"

"I'm afraid not." Jonathan walked through the door, but stopped after noticing McCullum wasn't following. His expression was unreadable.

"Well." The hunter rummaged around in his pocket, and produced some blue flowers. "I found these, and I'm not sure if they're the right ones, but it was worth a try."

The flowers certainly matched the description Jonathan had given him the previous day, but they were not hyacinths.

"Where did you find them?" The doctor took the flowers. Although they were a bit mushed from being in a pocket for so long, they still looked beautiful. "I haven't seen these in years."

McCullum scratched his stubble and smirked.

"That's confidential. Consider it luck of the Irish."

"Indeed." Jonathan nodded. "Thank you."

After a brief farewell, Jonathan headed home and McCullum returned to his patrol. Mary pestered him about the flowers, asking how he had found wild bluebells in the middle of London, and in late autumn no less. Jonathan only gave cryptic answers as he placed them in a vase by his desk. 

Later that night, just before attempting some sleep, he skimmed the book on flower language until he found the right entry. Jonathan laughed. He would have to spare McCullum from knowing his accidental message to the doctor. Fingers traced the ink on the paper. Everlasting Love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to end the chapter with some notes on the flowers of these two last chapters.  
> Hyacinths have the Greek myth tied to them, which is already very significant in the story (we all know where Jonathan and Geoffrey's relationship is heading to don't we?) but it can also signify sincerity, regret or jealousy depending on the colour, blue being the former. Most importantly, as an early spring flower it's also associated with rebirth.
> 
> Bluebells are a very close cousin of hyacinths, to the point where in my native language their name is translated to hyacinth of the forest. They are also associated with the Fair Folk, and not in a positive way. They often indicate the presence of fairies, and are used to lure unsuspecting humans into their realm. Plucking them out and taking them home was also believed to bring bad luck (and it's illegal nowadays so don't do it if there are in your area). But those are just old beliefs. Surely in a world where vampires and ancient gods exist fairies aren't part of the equation. Or are they? 
> 
> Anyways, have a good weekend!


	10. The Resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I bring you this long-ish chapter to compensate for the wait!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

A day later Jonathan returned to Pembroke hospital, as exhausted as ever and with questions he refused to leave unanswered. Not much had changed aside from new faces in the many cots scattered through the corridors. Harvey Fiddick was still awaiting for his surgery, Mortimer Goswick was still recovering from his more than physical wounds, and Thomas Elwood was still playing along Thelma Hawcroft's delusions. 

Jonathan saw Sean Hampton sitting calmly on his cot. The man had recovered quite quickly from his assault at the hands of William Bishop, but was still in observation a couple weeks later. The only sign of the incident were cuts on his face that hadn’t quite healed yet.

"Doctor Reid. Back from your break I see." He greeted with his usual smile.

"How are you feeling, Mr Hampton?" 

Edgar had asked him to watch out for any signs of turning. The man had survived a skal attack, and despite Edgar's vast knowledge in vampires, he wasn't sure of how skals were spreading so fast in London.

"I feel fine. In all honesty, I'm not sure why I'm still here, doctor."

Jonathan hummed. 

"Illnesses such as the Spanish Flu take some days to manifest symptoms." He explained. "We want to make sure Mr Bishop hadn't infected you with it."

It was a half lie, one that seemed to convince Mr Hampton.

"I see." He nodded thoughtfully. "You should worry instead for Mrs Harriet Jones. She's not doing too well, doctor."

It was well known among the staff that Sean Hampton was the only one who could tolerate Harriet Jones. The chronically ill woman had a foul temper, and an even fouler mouth. She spoke ill of all the staff at Pembroke, and was the one responsible for either causing or spreading any rumours amongst the patients in the building. For contrast, Hampton was kind and even offered his help at the hospital often. He always saw the good in everyone. Even Harriet Jones.

"I will pay her a visit, then. Thank you for your time, Mr Hampton."

Jonathan knocked on the door in front of him before entering. Mrs Jones's voice was rougher than he remembered.

"What is it? Is it lunch already?" She grumbled.

To say she looked sickly was an understatement. Her skin was clammy and yellowing, her hair was thin and had lost all semblance of a natural shine. She was slowly dying.

"I'm afraid not. Would you like to eat early?"

"Ah, the new doctor." Jones frowned. "Always so polite and thoughtful. But don't think I'm not onto you. You want others to think you are selfless and charitable, but you only care about yourself. It's a mask, all of it."

Despite the venom of her words, Jonathan wasn't bothered in the least.

"Perhaps you shouldn't speak in such a manner to those who try to help you. Regardless of their motives."

Harriet Jones cackled. Her face contorted into a twisted grimace.

"Ha! I know I am beyond help. Now leave, unless you have something interesting to tell me."

"I will show myself to the exit then." Jonathan didn't want to spend any more seconds in that room. The lack of sleep was already getting to him, and he didn't want his mood to sour at the moment.

Mr Hampton offered him a sympathetic smile, which Jonathan replied with a nod before heading to Edgar's office.

The older doctor seemed to be in a good mood, despite the amount of paperwork he had to finish.

"Jonathan! Feeling better I hope. How is your sister?"

"She has fully recovered. Thank you again for granting me days off."

It was no secret that Edgar really admired Jonathan. Being in a crisis as they were, he wouldn't have allowed such a privilege to anyone else. Or perhaps he was simply trying to gain his favour against McCullum. 

"But of course! Is there anything else you need?"

Edgar pushed the papers aside and started playing with his model skull, as was usual of him to do.

"I have heard some concerning rumours about this hospital. I thought you would like to know them." Replied Jonathan.

The younger doctor looked around the office. Edgar had many beakers and tubes set up on his workshop tables. It was hard to miss the sheer amount of carefully labeled vials of blood spread around the laboratory area. Edgar's current focus was blood transfusion.

"Rumours cannot be avoided in this business. I recommend not to pay much attention to them." Edgar was quick to dismiss.

"It's about Lady Ashbury, and how she seems related to the death of certain patients."

Edgar stiffened. His brown eyes met Jonathan’s.

"I see. And who is responsible for those rumours?" He sat down and placed the skull again on the table. 

"It was Nurse Crane. She was using that information to blackmail our generous patron." Jonathan paused. "I've already dealt with the issue in a discreet way."

He omitted the fact that he examined that information himself, and confirmed its truthfulness.

"That explains the resignation letter." Edgar nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you, Jonathan. I am sure our esteemed Lady will want to know more. She is visiting Pembroke tonight."

Jonathan furrowed his brows and nodded. From what McCullum had told him, confronting an Ekon was much more dangerous than dealing with a skal.

"I know what you're thinking, but she means no harm to you or the hospital. Remember she has saved your life before."

Edgar's words sounded sincere enough, although coated with his usual pedantic tone.

"You have a point. It would be extremely rude for me to distrust my saviour, blood drinker or not."

His reply seemed to satisfy Edgar, though Jonathan still had his doubts. He would have to make sure that his conversation with Lady Ashbury was in a public enough spot.

Finally done with his rounds, Jonathan locked himself in his laboratory. He still had the samples from Dorothy's dispensary to analyse.

The blood had the antibodies common in Spanish influenza infections, but other properties had also changed in many of the samples. The color was slightly off, as well as the thickness. Jonathan carefully smelled the vials and noticed the smell of putrefaction mixed in with the usual coppery scent. He had smelled that before, in skals. What intrigued the doctor the most, was that none of the samples had been that way the previous day. It was true that blood had to be kept in certain conditions, or else it would go bad, but this wasn't it. Had he accidentally witnessed the turning into a skal? Was it connected to the Spanish flu, or just a coincidence? There was still much to know.

Jonathan should have headed to his bed at the first signs of drowsiness. Instead, he kept running more tests until he set his arms and head against the desk and inevitably fell asleep.

As usual, he found himself swimming in blood. This time he could smell it, vile and putrid just like a Skal's. And yet strangely enticing.

"We're running out of time." A voice echoed. Jonathan twisted around until he found the source. The horned man was back.

"You! What do you want from me?"

"The Queen can't be defeated by mere mortals. Become my Champion. It's the only way."

The liquid around them started swirling around, threatening to drown Jonathan.

"Stop speaking in riddles! Who are you? This isn't a normal dream, is it?"

The figure was as calm as ever. 

"It is not. I am not a figment of your imagination, sweet child."

"Then why are you haunting me every time I close my eyes?"

Jonathan was slowly sinking down. He was drifting apart from the horned man.

"I have already told you. I wish to grant you a most valuable gift. You need only to accept it."

At that point, Jonathan felt that they were talking in circles. The being's vague answers were infuriating. 

"What are-"

Before he could finish the sentence, blood crashed over him like a wave. Jonathan gasped for breath, swung his arms wildly unable to reach the surface again.

He woke up on the floor. His chair had fallen along with him. There were distant screams.

It took Jonathan a few seconds to realize the shriek hadn't been part of the dream. He put on his coat, hiding in the inner pockets his revolver and club. He saw a trail of blood on the hall downstairs and almost jumped down the steps.

"Nurse Branagan!" He called to the woman right beside the stains. She was looking outside the main door with a worried look. "What happened here?"

"Dr Reid, I can't believe what happened!" She clutched a hand against her chest. "It was Mr Sean Hampton. He killed another patient and then ran away!"

Jonathan did believe her. He knew that meant even worse: Sean Hampton had become a skal and was now on a rampage.

"Poor Mrs Harriet Jones…" Nurse Branagan continued, almost to herself. "There was so much blood. How could he have done such a thing?"

Jonathan followed the trail to the front courtyard. Many of the patients that could still stand had congregated around a body on the ground. It had been tastefully covered in a white sheet. Jonathan also noticed the special visitor amongst the crowd. She was still wearing her modest black set of jacket and trousers and her red hair in a neat bun.

Milton Hooks walked from beyond the hospital grounds with a rushed pace. 

"Outta here! Scatter!" He shooed the patients with his arm. "This is a hospital, not a circus spectacle."

To say he was in a foul mood was an understatement. Jonathan approached him nonetheless.

"May I ask a few questions? What exactly happened here?"

"Your patient went on a rampage and killed an innocent woman, Dr Reid. That's what happened."

Jonathan gave him a stern glare.

"Are you implying, Mr Hooks, that I am somehow responsible for this tragedy?"

Hooks let his shoulders slump and sighed. 

"Sorry. I'm in a bad mood after chasing the bastard down for a few streets." 

The ambulance driver made his way to his usual spot at the wall. Jonathan followed. Hooks leaned on his back, took out a cigarette case from his pocket and put one in between his lips.

"Want one?" He offered.

"No, thank you. I don't smoke."

Jonathan had tried smoking a few times. The first was at a social gathering. He was young and curious, but he found the act nauseous and unpleasant. 

The remaining times were at France. A fellow doctor had an addiction, said it calmed his nerves after tending to soldiers that wouldn't last the night. Jonathan then gave it a try as well, and began developing a habit. 

That was until that same doctor started having breathing issues. He'd cough and huffed any time of the day, and couldn't do any exercise without running out of breath seconds after. Jonathan decided that a momentary feeling of tranquillity wasn't worth slowly losing his lung capacity. Besides, resources were scarce and money was better spent anywhere else.

"Where did Mr Hampton go? Any idea of where he might be?" Jonathan asked.

Hooks let out a puff of smoke from his mouth.

"He ran towards the decks. I bet he returned to his night shelter. Probably the best place to prey on the vulnerable after a hospital." He muttered his last sentence. "The bastard was so fast too.."

Jonathan sighed.

"Thank you, Milton. I'll handle the rest."

Milton cast a short glance at the bludgeon peeking from inside Jonathan's coat, but said nothing. He nodded, closed his eyes as he leaned his head backwards and blew more smoke towards the night sky.

London was burning once again. But the flames were invisible.

Lady Ashbury had stayed in front of the body, mourning, or at least pretending to. When their eyes met, Jonathan nodded at her. The Ekon walked towards a tent nearby and he followed along. The curtains were not drawn, and Jonathan could clearly see an elderly man sleeping on a cot. He looked restless.

Lady Ashbury sat on the chair next to him and held his hand. The man clutched it back tightly.

"Water…" he groaned weakly. 

Lady Ashbury grabbed the glass on the bedside table and carefully placed it against his lips. She let the man's hand go, helped him raise his head and properly drink.

"How are you feeling, mister Renfield?" She asked with a whisper. The man simply groaned in response.

The man looked pale and on the verge of death. Jonathan found himself unconsciously searching for any bite marks on his neck and arms, but found none.

"You probably have a lot of questions." Lady Ashbury turned towards Jonathan. "Don't worry. He's barely conscious and won't remember a thing."

Jonathan tensed up. "Are you planning to…"

"Mesmerise him? Goodness no!" She frowned. "I would only do that in an emergency situation."

Her words rang sincere. All the vampires Jonathan had stumbled upon so far were feral and bloodthirsty. Lady Ashbury was the complete opposite: gentle, collected, and emanating an aura of peacefulness. She also looked the most human.

"Apologies. I have little knowledge on how any of your kind's abilities work."

A cold breeze ran past the fabric curtains and against Jonathan's legs. The winter season was approaching.

"And I will gladly answer many of your doubts. But I believe there is something we must talk about first."

Jonathan nodded and moved a nearby chair before sitting down. His foot tapped against the ground. His last nightmare, along with Sean Hampton's brutal attack had left him restless. 

"The blackmailing. The rumours Nurse Crane threatened to spread. Are they true?"

Lady Ashbury took a deep breath. Did vampires actually need to breathe?

"Straight to the point." She bitterly observed. "I only ever feed on the dying. If you have any doubt, take a closer look at the files she's used against me."

Jonathan nodded.

"I believe you. And pardon my initial distrust. Being around Priwen has influenced my view on the subject."

Lady Ashbury furrowed her brows. It was more a sign of disappointment than of anger or frustration. It somehow was worse.

"Priwen? I thought you better than those brutes."

"They may be brutes," Jonathan replied. ",but they keep the streets clean from Skals."

That answer didn't satisfy her in the least.

"Don't mistake love of violence for love of justice, Doctor Reid." 

"I won't." He paused. "What are the exact powers of an Ekon, if I may inquire?"

"You may." Lady Ashbury's posture relaxed. "There's the mesmerising, the shadow jumping, the immortality, of course. We can also fight through shadows or blood, depending on the individual. I believe that is all."

Jonathan made an effort to stop his foot from tapping. He failed. He was increasingly curious, but he had a pressing matter.

"That is all? What about… communicating through dreams?"

The Lady's face expression became unreadable.

"How do you know about that?" She whispered. "You must keep quiet about it."

"Why?" Jonathan was growing alarmed. "What does it mean?"

"It is something that only the most ancient, powerful of our kind can do. If such an Ekon has set their eyes on London, then this epidemic is worse than we thought."

Jonathan's heart was drumming against his chest. He was hoping Lady Ashbury wouldn't notice. She did.

"Jonathan. Are you…"

The man almost jumped out of his chair. He hurried towards the tent opening and away from her reach.

"I have one last question." He swallowed. "Are there more Ekon like you?"

"Yes, although we are rare. Our thirst for blood doesn't make us into monsters. It's the choices we make that do."

Jonathan nodded and left for his laboratory.

Everything was starting to make sense. It all was coming down to one choice. Jonathan was doomed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have already noticed, I took some liberty with the timeline events and some vampire stuff. In my defense canon isn't very clear at times. (Devs please give us a sequel and more official vampire lore).
> 
> Anyways see you next week!
> 
> Update 23/07: So sorry to bring bad news. Due to unexpected personal reasons next chapter will be late, and updates might be sporadic. Thank you for understanding.


	11. The Farewell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the lateness! Basically real life hit me like a truck and I also had to rewrite a lot of this chapter until I was happy with it.
> 
> Hope you enjoy nonetheless!

After the fifth coffee of the day, Jonathan was beyond exhausted. He hadn't slept for more than twenty-four hours. He knew what would happen if he did, and he wasn't keen on experiencing that yet.

The sun had set. Things calmed down at the hospital, something that, to superstitious medical workers, meant something terrible was about to happen. Jonathan was not one of those, but the belief wasn’t quite wrong. London was a ticking time bomb.

The doctor almost dropped his cup when a hand touched his shoulder. 

"You don't look too well, Jonathan. You should go rest." Edgar didn't look much better.

"I could say the same about you." He offered a smile. "Long night finishing paperwork?"

Edgar filled his mug with coffee. Neither of them knew which nurse had taken the time to prepare it, but they were thankful.

"That, and having a discussion with Waverley and Thoreau." He sighed. "They can't seem to decide on who will perform the surgery on Mr Fiddick."

Jonathan nodded. It was a complicated case, and their disagreement had been stalling its resolution for too long.

Jonathan set the empty mug in the sink and looked around. It was just him and Edgar in the room.

"I was wondering if you could answer a few questions I have about vam- Ekons."

Edgar's face lit up immediately.

"Of course! There is still much we don't know, but I will reply with the best of my knowledge."

Jonathan's foot kept tapping on the floor at a fast paced and even rhythm. 

"Do they all require to feed on humans?"

Edgar hummed thoughtfully.

"I believe they can also feed from animals and other undead. But it doesn't quench their constant thirst, I've been told." 

"I see."

The thirst for blood, the way it drove all vampires insane and violent towards humans. Or almost all.

"Are there more Ekons like Lady Ashbury? Only feeding on dying people, that is."

Edgar brought a hand to his chin and sipped his coffee.

"Not that I know of, I'm afraid. But there are many civilized Ekons that have helped the Brotherhood along the years. Not all of them are savage brutes, like McCullum assumes."

The bite on his last words was not missed on Jonathan's part. Some part deep within him felt inexplicably insulted by them. He chose to ignore the feeling for the moment.

"Thank you," Jonathan hesitated. His lips trembled for a moment. "That's all I needed to know."

He had considered telling Edgar what he was going to do that night. He would have probably understood, supported him in any way. But his tongue betrayed him at the last instant. Perhaps it was for the best. He would carry that burden alone.

Jonathan went to his room upstairs to fetch his coat. His eyes caught a glimpse of the balcony door. It was a makeshift one made out of wooden boards nailed together. That part of the exterior building had been affected by the war, and the balcony replaced by unstable scaffolding. It was too tall for him to jump down from without getting hurt.

Jonathan left the hospital through a back door instead. The damp cold air outside relaxed him somewhat. Would he miss the way the cold bit his skin? The taste of a good meal with his family? Perhaps he should have spent more time with them when he had the chance. Mary had been right all along.

The morning after Sean Hampton's rampage, Jonathan had returned home to spend the day with his family. He patiently listened to whatever gossip Mary had found out about, and watched as his dear mother finished the painting of the flower vase. For a few hours, he pretended that everything was fine.

He reminisced as he examined the items around his room. Jonathan was not one to keep mementos, but he still had books that brought memories back, clothes that reminded him of seasons past before the war even started. He still had the coat that his father had gifted him for Christmas.

His father. Jonathan opened the letter from him that was still on the desk. He sighed. Written was the promise that he'd receive an explanation for his disappearance if he followed a series of riddles. He left without saying a thing. Would he do the same?

For the moment, he decided to leave the letter again in his desk. He had lived for more than ten years without knowing, he could survive a few more days. Or perhaps never knowing. He changed his coat and walked downstairs.

Mary was humming as she was knitting something.

"I didn't know you enjoyed knitting. A new hobby I presume?"

Mary didn't lift her eyes to reply.

"There's much you don't know about me."

Jonathan sat down on the neighbouring sofa. The shape of the knitted material was complex, and he couldn't tell what it was supposed to be.

"What are you knitting?"

"It's a secret." Mary teased.

Jonathan scratched his beard.

"Christmas present it is then."

"I won't make any for nosy know-it-alls."

Jonathan snorted. It was good to see her bantering as usual. Everything seemed too fine.

"Mary, I- I have to tell you something…" He stumbled on his words.

Mary noticed the change in mood and set the needles and wool on her lap.

"Is there something the matter?"

Jonathan hated seeing her frown. What would she tell her? That her brother was going to die? Become a monster?

"No, not quite." He pursed his lips. "I might be away from home for a few days, is all."

Mary sighed and, surprisingly, smiled.

"It can't be helped, can it? The hospital needs you."

Jonathan nodded numbly.

"I'll miss you." Said Mary.

"I'll miss you too." 

Those were the last words he said to her before returning to the Pembroke. He kept a fast pace of tending to patients to keep himself distracted. From both the things he didn't have the courage to say, and the growing exhaustion. Until the hospital became quieter and his time was nearing its end.

"It's a pleasant night tonight, isn't it?"

Jonathan almost jumped in place. He hadn't noticed the presence of Mr Rakesh Chadana, or that his feet had carried him to the makeshift morgue.

"Apologies. I was distracted."

Mr Chadana smiled.

"No need to worry about it. I know how hard it is, being a doctor."

Jonathan had only visited Mr Chadana once, to introduce himself. It was no secret that he had accidentally been appointed a doctor during his military service, and that he no longer claimed that title. Jonathan had mixed feelings about the situation, but was in no mood to voice them.

Instead he looked up at the sky, and found that there were no clouds in the way of the stars. It was a beautiful sight. 

Would he miss the blue hue of the day sky?

"Have you ever stopped to think how we're looking at the same skies our ancestors ever did?" Asked Mr Chadana "And after we are long gone, our descendants will be looking at the same stars."

A celestial eternity. A vision locked in time.

"There is still much to learn from the sky." Said Jonathan instead. Perhaps he would have the chance to see humanity reach the moon. Or perhaps it would remain science fiction.

Would he miss the warmth of the sun?

"I must go. Goodnight, Mr Chadana."

"Goodnight, doctor."

Jonathan walked away. He didn't know where. Wherever his feet would take him. His time was running out, and yet he was wasting it on pointless contemplation. He hadn't said goodbye to his family. But he didn't want to at that point. It would only pain him further. He briefly wondered if his father had thought the same thing when he left. He still hadn't opened that letter on his desk. Not like it mattered anymore.

Jonathan lost his composure while looking down at the canal. He was hyperventilating, sweating despite being cold.

He still had so much to do, he didn't want to… he couldn't…

But he had to. Even if it made no logical sense, even if it was all a trap. 

He remained in a kneeling position in front of the muddy water until his heartbeat returned to normal. There was one person left to say goodbye to. Even if his plan went accordingly, they wouldn't be able to meet again in peaceful terms, mindless beast or not. Although for once, Jonathan hoped McCullum was wrong in his judgement.

"You look like shit." Commented said hunter when they finally met face to face.

Geoffrey McCullum had been patrolling nearby. The number of times Jonathan had stumbled upon him during his rounds around London was honestly statistically improbable. Was he doing it on purpose? Jonathan always tried to be either at home or at the hospital before sunset, but he couldn't blame the man for worrying. It was probably a coincidence, though. He had no reason to be so interested in the doctor, recruiting attempts or not.

"Work has been keeping me awake at night." Jonathan gave a half lie as an excuse.

McCullum suddenly stepped in really closely. He smelled of ash and gunpowder. His hand stretched towards Jonathan, who wasn't sure how to respond.

McCullum picked a leaf from Jonathan's head.

"Can't have a gentleman like you looking like that." He smirked.

"Of course. Thank you."

McCullum took a step back.

"Anytime. Shouldn't you be at the hospital?"

Jonathan couldn't stop a sigh.

"I am taking a break."

"I thought doctors didn't have those." 

Jonathan's lips curved slightly. 

"Cheer up, Reid. The epidemic can't last forever."

McCullum bumped the doctor’s shoulder with his fist. A friendly gesture that Jonathan ignored over his restless thoughts.

"If you could save a thousand of lives at the cost of your own, what would you do?"

McCullum frowned.

"Huh? Well, I risk my life and the lives of my men to protect the people from skals. But why are you asking this? You don't plan on working yourself to death, do you?"

What at first sounded like some light hearted teasing slowly changed into worry. The lack of a smile in Jonathan's face only worried the hunter further. 

"I'm sorry. It was simply a philosophical question. Nothing you should be concerned about."

If that convinced McCullum of anything, he certainly didn't show it.

"You should lay down for a bit, anyway. And that's a demand. I will drag you to bed if necessary."

"You are right. It is time." Jonathan massaged his neck, still aching from sleeping in a bad position. "Good night, and good hunting, Geoffrey."

McCullum unsheathed his sword, ready to patrol again.

"Goodnight. Sleep well, doctor."

Jonathan didn't notice how the other man watched him leave, and only walked away when he was out of sight. 

Instead of returning to the main building, Jonathan snuck into the morgue. After the Priwen cleanup the place had become secure from any skal infiltration, although not sanitized enough to be used again. Jonathan had made sure to keep the only set of keys, meaning no one would walk in on him, or his remains, anytime soon.

It was ironic, in a way, to die at the morgue.

He took a deep breath.

"I am ready." His voice echoed. "I am ready to be your Champion."

Nothing happened. Perhaps he was losing his mind. Perhaps it was all some delirious dreams caused by stress, nothing more than a-

A sharp pain on his neck. A wave of dizziness. Jonathan fell to the ground, and lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This marks the end of the first part of the story!  
> I'm excited for what comes next, and I hope you are too. Hopefully I'll be able to have steady updates from now on, though I can't promise anything.
> 
> And as always, thank you for reading so far!
> 
> PS: In case you missed it, I made some art for chapter 1 of the story. I plan on adding more art whenever I find the inspiration for it.


	12. New Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for something completely different.  
> This is probably not what you wanted to read after the last cliffhanger, but you're going to have to suffer for a bit longer ;)
> 
> I hope you enjoy anyways!

The one thing Mary wasn't good at, was fulfilling her promises. But Jonathan had broken his first, so they were even. After the attack, Mary couldn't help but wonder who her mysterious saviour had been. Her heart would skip a beat every time she saw a hint of red hair, only to become disappointed after seeing it didn't belong to her.

It was one afternoon during a walk that she approached Clarence Crossley's set-up and picked up some of his leaflets while he wasn't looking. The man looked worse for wear, leaning against the table like he could collapse at any minute. She would have to tell Jonathan when he returned home. 

Mary read the leaflets while drinking a cup of tea. They were absurd, the ravings of someone who had read too many Penny Dreadfuls. And yet she wondered if any of that was true. The confrontation on the rooftop had been strange to say the least. It could have been a shock response, but both the man who tried to kidnap her and the red-haired woman had seemed inhuman in nature.

Perhaps vampires were real, and perhaps her saviour was one of them.

As soon as Jonathan announced he'd spend the night at the hospital and the sun set, Mary set her plan into motion. She dressed in her most comfortable clothes: a black dress that was a bit too light for the season but would help her hide in the darkness, and flat shoes. Despite the danger she would be in, she felt as giddy as a child about to set up a prank. It brought her back to her younger years, when she’d cause trouble for the whole family. Who knew the daughter of the house would be the mischievous one?

The street was illuminated and people still roamed going on with their business. She thought no one was watching her when she opened the door to the less safe areas of the borough, but a voice stopped her.

"Excuse me madam!" A woman trotted towards her. "It's not safe to leave this late at night."

It was the suffragette always seen protesting in the middle of the street. Mary had once considered joining their cause, but when the pandemic struck she lost all motivation to fight.

"I will be fine. No need for your concern."

But she was indeed concerned. The woman’s brows furrowed in determination.

"I insist. Haven't you heard of the recent criminal activity?"

Mary crossed her arms.

"Again. I will be safe." She narrowed her eyes. "Is it because I'm a woman? Think I can't take care of myself?"

Bullseye. The other woman stepped back, unsure of how to reply.

"No! I was just…" She stammered. "Fair enough. I warned you."

Mary didn't wait for the woman to leave. She stepped out and let the door slam behind her. She sighed. The streets were dark and the clouded sky had a sickly hue.

This time Mary paid close attention to the rooftops as she walked around. Whenever she heard men walking or barking orders at each other she'd turn the other way. Soon enough, she found out that their patrolling was awfully predictable, and Mary wondered what they were really doing.

The answer came in the form of hellish wails and screeches. Ones that humans couldn't possibly make. Was that how vampires sounded, or was it something else?

Mary should have turned tail and gone home at that discovery. Instead, she was even more motivated to find her saviour. She was the one with all of the answers.

"I thought you had learnt not to wander at night from our last meeting."

Mary whipped her head towards the voice. A figure was standing right in front of a burning barrel. Mary caught a glimpse of red. It was unmistakably her. And from what she could see under the dim lights, she was beautiful.

"I've been looking for you." Mary's heart pounded against her chest. "I want to repay you for rescuing me."

The mysterious woman's face remained a cold mask.

"You must return home before you run into any danger."

Mary stood her ground.

"I have some questions first. About what you are and what's happening in the streets."

The mysterious woman shifted into a defensive stance, her feet ready to run at a moment's notice. 

"There are things you are better off not knowing."

And in a blink, she was gone. Mary checked every corner, and even up on the rooftops, but found no trace of her. Defeated, she returned home.

The following night Mary was out looking for her again. She didn't appear, but Mary would see shadows move from the corner of her eye. That night Mary never ran into any danger. And the third night played out the same way, with the feeling of being watched and a peaceful stroll in a city overcome with chaos.

It was before the fifth night that Mary wondered if things would continue that way. It was almost like a game that neither player wanted to lose. But at least Mary's hunch was confirmed: the mysterious woman cared about her getting hurt.

Right before the sun set, Mary executed her plan. It wouldn't be pleasant, but it was a sacrifice she was willing to make. She found the perfect place away from the usual gang patrols and laid down in the best damsel in distress position she had. The mud on the ground stained her dress, making it the more convincing. She would have to apologise to Avery later for the extra laundry work.

The sky dyed to a pure black sprinkled with stars, and two delicate footsteps clicked against the cobblestone right on cue. The steps hurried towards her, and then stopped a few inches away from Mary. A sigh.

"You certainly are a persistent one."

Mary opened an eye. Despite the darkness of the alley, she could see a faint smile on the woman's face.

"So I've been told." Mary sat up. God, her hair was a dirty mess now. "You left me with no choice. Had I had the chance, I would have invited you for tea instead."

The smile turned into a frown, and then back into a neutral look.

"You risk your life every night, just to meet me. You don't know who I am."

Mary stood up. Her dress had become damp in some spots, and was clinging uncomfortably to her legs.

"Neither do you. Yet you make sure I don't run into danger. I'm not afraid of you, or of what you might be."

There it was again, the unnatural reflection in the woman's eyes. It only made Mary the more intrigued.

"But where are my manners? I am Mary Reid, pleased to meet you." She continued in a more playful tone.

The woman examined her up and down before answering.

"I am Lady Elisabeth Ashbury. And perhaps I would like some tea."

That same night Mary returned home with a disheveled look and a promise. And despite Avery's worried interrogation she went to sleep with a smile.

The evening after, Mary was practically running around the house making sure everything was perfect. She had made Avery prepare the best tea they had, and personally cleaned every spot the poor, exhausted man hadn't had the chance to. 

It had been a while since Mary had had any friend visit, and she was excited.

When the door rang and Avery went to open it, Mary almost ran towards the nearest mirror to make sure she looked presentable.

Her cheeks were still sunken and there were still traces of bags under her eyes. After the loss of her son, Wesley, she practically stopped eating or leaving her house. At that time, Jonathan's letters were the only reason she had to keep on living. She slowly started picking herself up, and when her dear Johnny finally returned, she finally realised she wasn't alone. 

Mary tried to keep the bad memories at bay. She still had some bad days, but she was getting better. She had a friend waiting at the entrance.

"Good evening." She heard Avery say. "You must be the young mistress's acquaintance. Please, do come in. She will be here shortly."

Shortly was a second later, when Mary appeared from upstairs right away.

Lady Ashbury was wearing a simple but elegant dress. Nothing that a lady of her status would be usually seen with, but Mary knew she was no typical woman. Under the light, Mary could finally appreciate the coppery gleam of her hair and her soft, porcelain skin.

"Good evening." Lady Ashbury replied to Avery, then her eyes flashed towards Mary. "Thank you for the invitation."

Mary showed her to the living room, where a pair of sofas and a coffee table waited for them.

"The tea will be here shortly." Mary explained. "You do drink tea, don't you?"

Lady Ashbury made a sad smile.

"I'm afraid my… condition makes it impossible. But I do enjoy the aroma."

Oh. Mary should have realised sooner.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…"

"There's no need to worry, really." Lady Ashbury reassured. "I very much appreciate the gesture."

Mary sighed and brought a hand to her cheek. 

"Of course."

They fell into an awkward silence until Avery finally brought the tea.

"I will now go tend to your mother." Said the butler to Mary. "Do call me if you need anything."

Mary placed a hand on Avery's to stop him from pouring the content of the teapot.

"You can retire for tonight. I have it all under control."

Avery hesitated for a moment.

"If you insist…" 

When the man left, Mary winked at her guest.

"Don't worry. No one will hear our conversation."

Mary poured the tea herself, starting with Lady Asbury's cup. 

"I will have to have double the sugarcubes" Mary teased, "to compensate."

She ended up dropping four of them onto her cup, her usual.

"I believe you have many questions." Spoke Lady Ashbury. "But I must warn you, this information might bring danger upon yourself."

Mary dropped a teaspoon into her cup.

"Your intimidation attempts only intrigue me further."

Lady Ashbury chuckled.

"You really are hopeless."

Mary excused herself for a second and came back with a small pile of brochures.

"How truthful are these?"

Lady Ashbury took the one at the top.

"Ah yes, Mister Crossley's anti-vampire campaign." She looked at it with a hint of amusement. "Surprisingly, he is well informed on the subject."

Mary held the cup in front of her mouth.

"He is? I honestly mistook him for a charlatan."

In the end, Mary listened intently to Lady Ashbury debunking certain myths, and confirming others. By the way she talked about her past, Mary could tell it wasn't a very happy one. Immortality must have been lonely.

It was Lady Ashbury who took note of the time on the clock, and reminded Mary to go to bed. 

"Only if you promise to visit again." Mary crosses her arms and frowned, but with no real anger behind her words.

"If we must." Lady Ashbury faked a sigh.

And she fulfilled her promise. It was through their almost nightly meetings that all the pieces in the puzzle started to fit together. The skal epidemic, the vampire hunters she had mistaken as gang members…

"Wait, you've met Jonathan?" Mary almost spilled her tea.

"We were formally introduced last night." Elisabeth explained. "Relentless curiosity runs in the family."

She raised her cup to her face and breathed in the aromatic steam. That night, it was a floral tea.

"Does he know?" Asked Mary. She was still holding her cup in mid air, too distracted to think about setting it down on the table.

"He does. He has been looking for the source of the skal epidemic, in fact."

Mary finished her tea and took a bite of a biscuit. At first she had had her reservations on eating in front of Elisabeth, until she commented she didn't mind. 

"I have long forgotten the taste of many foods." She had told Mary back then.

"I didn't expect that of him. He's always talking about logical thought and science." Mary flicked her wrist and a few crumbles fell on the floor. "It's a surprise that he has accepted the existence of vampires."

Elisabeth hummed. She lowered her gaze for a few seconds.

"Perhaps so. During our meeting he seemed rather exhausted. I worry he isn't taking care of himself."

Mary sighed.

"Welcome to the club. He has always been like that. When he was at medical school he would skip meals and pull all-nighters to study."

"I see." Elisabeth replied, deep in thought. It was clear that something was bothering her, but Mary didn't press further.

The conversation soon shifted into the topic of fictional stories, and they talked about their favourite books until it was time to part ways.

The next time they met, it was after Jonathan had told Mary that he'd stay at the hospital for a few days. Mary didn't fail to notice his lack of sleep. She wanted to stop him, tell him to take a break again, but she didn't. There was something about the determination in his voice that told her he wouldn't change his mind.

Her mood lightened when she reached the doors of Elisabeth's manor. They lived surprisingly close to each other. The Lady was at first hesitant to say her address or anything deemed too personal. It was a habit she developed after years of avoiding being hunted down. Honestly, Mary couldn't blame her. Besides, earning her trust only made their friendship feel more valuable.

Mary knocked on the door, and was quickly greeted by a warm gust of air and the sight of Elisabeth in a casual attire. Instead of her carefully braided hair she had a loose bun with strands of red hair falling onto her cheeks.

"Was I a bit early?" Mary asked.

Elisabeth brought a hand to her head.

"I've forgotten to do my hair today. How embarrassing." She blushed. Mary hadn't thought vampires, or Ekons, as Elisabeth insisted, could blush.

Mary chuckled.

"It looks good on you." 

"Then I might wear it more often. But please, do come in. It must be freezing outside."

Mary walked in and took off her coat. Winter wasn't quite there yet, but everyone had started to dress in their warmer clothes, Mary included.

The woman rose her arm to show the paper bag she was carrying.

"I brought you a gift."

Elisabeth took the bag, but didn't dare open it.

"You shouldn't have."

"Nonsense. After all, you saved my life."

Elisabeth huffed.

"I thought we were even after- oh!" She took out the content of the bag. It was an old book, worn out but well kept. "Where did you find this?"

She examined the front and the back, and then the front again. Her emerald eyes were open wide. Mary had remembered the conversation about her looking for that specific book. It was written by an obscure author, and very few copies were made. A true rarity.

"I have my means." Mary simply stated. And by means she meant that she had walked the entirety of London and the surrounding areas until she found it at an antiques shop. 

It had been totally worth the effort.

While Elisabeth was still looking at the contents of the book, Mary noticed the painting in front of them. It was a delicately painted landscape. One that made Mary lust for adventure.

"You had told me you painted, but never that you were so skilled."

Mary tucked a stray strand behind her ear. 

"Thank you. Although I could never paint better than your mother."

Mary raised an eyebrow.

"You know what she would say to that? She would say  _ It's not a competition. Every art piece is unique, and has a million stories to tell. _ "

Elisabeth smiled and hummed in response. She clutched the book against her chest.

"Wise words, and quite true. After years of observing paintings with blue skies, I understood that everyone sees them with a different hue."

Both women walked to the lounge and sat on the armchairs. They were silky and plush, and Mary had to resist the urge to slump.

"I hope the tea is to your liking. It's not easy to brew when you can't have a taste."

Mary brought the cup to her mouth. It smelled slightly sweet, with a touch of cinnamon. It tasted equally as good.

"It's perfect."

Elisabeth finally placed the book on a small table nearby, atop Bram Stoker's Dracula. Mary wondered if it was the signed copy Elisabeth had once mentioned.

"That's quite a relief. How is Jonathan doing?"

Mary took another sip and frowned. 

"Not working himself to death, I hope. He said he would stay at the hospital for the moment."

Elisabeth froze in place. 

"That can't be possible."

Mary frowned. The she realised the meaning behind such words. She had never seen Elisabeth this worried.

"What?" Was all she could say.

"No one has seen him there for days. The hospital administrator had assumed he was resting at home."

Mary gripped the armrest with all her strength.

"You don't think he- he…"

"I cannot say for sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Honestly, I had too much fun writing this, despite the lack of action. I love these two gals too much and just want them to be happy.   
> I might write more about these two in this continuity, but I promise unless it's story relevant I'll do it on a secondary fic.
> 
> See you next time!


	13. The Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo basically I had this chapter almost finished and then Stardew Valley took over my free time...  
> This chapter features very minor appearances of personal ocs as unimportant Priwen members, hope it doesn't take away from the experience!
> 
> As always, thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy!

His lungs ached for air. His body shook violently. Every muscle and joint cracked out of their rigid positions. What Jonathan was feeling could only be described as coming back from rigor mortis. Coming back to life.

It took him a few minutes to remember who he was, and how he ended up on the cold floor of an abandoned morgue. There was a strong sensation pulling him from within. A thirst, but without the dryness in his mouth. It made his teeth ache and overwhelmed his senses.

Everything was intense, the smell of enclosed air, the tapping of rain falling outside, the details of the tiled floor even in the absolute dark. And then he felt it too. It wasn't a sound, but he heard it beat and flow. It wasn't a sight, but it was a vivid red. His body moved on his own accord to reach it. He sank his teeth, his fangs, into it and released an oh so wonderful coppery scent. It was warm and pungent as it filled his mouth and dripped down his chin. And all too quickly, it was gone.

His other senses slowly returned, and saw in his hands a dead rat. Jonathan dropped it and cleaned his mouth in horror. He could now notice the foul smell from the animal, the lingering taste on his lips.

"I can't believe I've done this."

Jonathan stood up slowly. His whole body was still stiff, but at least it wasn't painful anymore.

He was still thirsty.

It took all of his willpower to not jump towards yet another rat. The place had become infested with them, but at least nothing else had entered. 

Jonathan scratched the side of his neck and looked at the dry blood now in his nails. He found a mirror in an adjacent room and looked at himself.

He was a walking corpse. His skin had become even paler, veins becoming visible around his forehead and cheeks. His eyes had always been a light colour, but now they were drained of all brightness. If the eyes were a window to the soul, Jonathan was now soulless. 

"I hope I have made the right choice."

He leaned on the sink.

_ "You have, my child." _

Jonathan turned around as fast as he could. He had heard the voice in the back of his head. An all too familiar voice.

"You. So you are my maker." He asked out loud, unsure of where to look towards. "Why don't you show yourself?"

Everything around him dyed into a scarlet hue. A mass of bloating blood coalesced into the shape of the horned man.

"I have done what you've asked of me. Now what?"

Jonathan took a hesitating step towards the figure. He still didn't understand why his maker kept covering himself under that vision.

" _ Fear not. The pieces are all laid out for you to find." _

Perhaps it was the pang of hunger, perhaps the fear, the confusion at what he had become. At his body feeling so unfamiliar yet so similar to what it had always been.

He should have asked for more answers, for the man, the creature, to stop speaking in riddles. Instead, he voiced a worry that had inundated his thoughts ever since his choice to submit to the bloodthirst.

"Will I become a monster?"

The image of his maker disappeared as fast as it appeared, leaving only a faint echo his heightened senses could hear.

" _ That is your choice to make. _ "

Jonathan left the morgue in a hurry. The enclosed space was starting to get on his nerves. The early evening air was cold, but his body no longer felt the bite of it. His skin had adopted the same temperature. Nostrils flared and took in every scent. The usual sting of the Thames, the rubbish piling on the streets, and a bit further away, the smell of antiseptics mingled with the enticing aroma of fresh blood.

The hospital was too close for comfort. Jonathan didn't trust himself near any of his patients, at least not until he had managed to gain a better control of his base instinct. To feed, to drain the life out of whoever came close to him. To fill his mouth again with that warm, metallic taste. So he ran. 

His strength was like never before. He was fast, agile. It was almost pleasant, if only it wasn't so terrifying. And then he discovered how to jump through shadows. It was dizzying, yet exhilarating. He ended up on the rooftops, hopping onto abandoned houses where no one would see him. It was only him and the London sky. He was alone.

Or so he thought until he heard the voices below.

"This one is empty too." A man spoke. "The sod could have at least died with something in his pockets."

Jonathan approached with uncanny stealth. He was now able to walk in almost absolute silence.

"Nevermind him." Another man replied. "This one has a golden tooth. Help me rip it off."

Thieves. Honourless thugs that stole from the dead. A waste of skin that no one would miss. Easy prey.

Jonathan should have stopped himself. These were people, with their own lives and struggles. They possibly had family waiting for their return. 

But probably not. Jonathan had taken lives before. True, it was during the war, when he had no choice, but did he have a choice now? He would have to feed himself sooner or later, and it was either a bunch of spineless thugs or anyone else who truly didn't deserve it.

When his partner in crime wasn't looking, Jonathan hauled upwards the nearest thief. He didn't struggle to lift the man up into the rooftops. One hand covered the victim's mouth while the other pushed his shoulder down. Jonathan saw the tantalizing blood flowing through his veins. He felt his fangs extend until his mouth could no longer house them, and sank them into the exposed neck.

The man had no way to resist. Jonathan drank without control, relishing in the taste filling his mouth and slipping down his throat. It ended all too soon. 

Good thing he had seconds.

Jonathan threw the lifeless body on the streets. The other thief rushed to his aid in alarm, and that's when Jonathan jumped right behind him and pulled his chin backwards before diving in. His blood tasted slightly different, but no less pleasant, and Jonathan wondered in the haze of ecstasy if everyone was unique.

This time he heard the man's last words in his head before he was gone for good.

_ Why me? _

Jonathan didn't reply. He kept his mouth open, eyes closed, trying to enjoy the last dregs before the relief coursing through abandoned him.

The thirst wasn't quite gone, but it was now much more bearable. He also felt revitalised now that his stomach was no longer empty. Perhaps it wasn't as bad as he had imagined. And he still felt like himself, despite the changes of his body.

The horror of what he had done didn't hit him until minutes later, until he was jumping on the rooftops towards the West End and the high from the blood had passed. He had killed, eaten, those men. He had truly become a monster, hadn't he? But there was no turning back. It was all for the sake of stopping the epidemic.

In his hesitation, Jonathan didn't notice he was approaching a Priwen patrol. He almost cursed out loud when a bolt hit his shoulder. He then lost his footing, and ended amongst the rubble occupying a dark alley. 

"A leech! It's a leech!" Some soldier shouted.

"Careful, it's a fancy one."

Jonathan was facing a group of four Priwen soldiers. The leader, the keen eyed shooter who spotted him on the roof, was in his late twenties, but the rest seemed much younger and fresh out of their parents' homes.

"I don't want to fight." Jonathan raised his arms in surrender.

None of the men moved their guns and crossbows away.

"It's a trap." One with green eyes and a scar on his eyebrow whispered.

Jonathan was still amazed at how many details he could see even in almost absolute darkness, now.

The patrol leader frowned. He was tall, all lean muscle. Freckles peppered his black skin. 

"Wait." He said. "Aren't you…?"

He eyed Jonathan and down, and the Ekon panicked. He must have recognised him from when he was assisting Priwen.

Jonathan bolted. He was too fast for the soldiers to catch up, but he ended up with many a bullet and bolt on his back. He found a safe hideout in an abandoned house nearby. The only access was through the balcony, so no human would find him there. As soon as he removed the bolts, his injuries started to heal. He worried about the bullets, until he noticed they were being pushed out by his body's regeneration.

Curious, Jonathan thought. He did read from one of Edgar's documents, that a vampire's body had a negative reaction towards wood and plant life. The bolt wounds did sting more than the bullet ones at least.

There was no mirror in the room, but Jonathan didn't need one to know he looked terrible. He hoped at least the coat could be salvaged and mended. He was just a few streets away from the Reid manor, but the problem was how to get there without giving anyone a heart attack.

No better solution came up than simply walking in and hoping no one would be awake to see him in such a state. It was still the dead of the night, and there was no one out in the streets, at least.

Everything was seemingly going well. Jonathan opened the front door and was met with darkness and silence. Then, out of nowhere, someone was behind him.

Mary almost tackled Jonathan when she saw him. Her hands were incredibly warm against his cheeks. To Jonathan's surprise, Lady Ashbury was right behind her, a look of worry on her face.

Mary stepped back and their eyes met. Jonathan didn't like what he saw in them. It was worry, fear, but most of all, recognition of what Jonathan had become.

"Oh, Jonathan." The words trailed like wisps of steam off her lips. "What have you done?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm a big fan of pacifist!Reid myself but through my experience of the game I felt that he was a little more nuanced than "eating people bad, so I won't". Granted, the game makes all three interpretations plausible, but what I noticed is that Jonathan's kindness is at least a bit hypocritical and self interested (cue to him being called out for being a privileged rich man more than once). Don't worry though, Jonathan isn't becoming completely evil anytime soon. Or is he?
> 
> Next updates may be a bit slower because I've been having other things in my mind lately (curse you Stardew Valley) but don't worry! I'm definitely finishing this fanfic.
> 
> PS: so I've been seeing that there's a discord server (or servers?) going around and I've been meaning to meet more Vampyr fans so I'd love to join if anyone would like to invite me!


	14. The Friendships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready, this one's a long one!  
> I believe I'm back on a writing spree so hopefully the next chapter will be here soon! I also have some other smaller stuff in progress, but I won't say what until they're ready...
> 
> As always, hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

Jonathan didn't know what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't a hug.

"Mary. I…" He trailed off, hands hovering over her sister's back. This close, he could sense the blood flowing through her veins, the strain of his fangs to just reach out and drink from her neck. 

She didn't mind the blood on his clothes, even when they stained hers.

"I believe an explanation is in order." Lady Ashbury provided the voice of reason. "But not here."

She had apprehension in her eyes, stayed tense as if preparing for Jonathan to lose control. He really couldn't blame her. Jonathan stepped back to show he meant no harm. He couldn't help to look at Mary with concern in his eyes.

"You know… you know what I've become?"

Mary glanced at Lady Ashbury, then nodded. 

"Elisabeth has told me. She's the one that saved me from my assailant that one night."

Mary repressed a shiver. The coat she was wearing wasn't thick enough to protect her from the cold of the night. Jonathan could also see that from the way her blood flowed through her. It was a fascinating, almost mesmerising sight.

"Let's get you warmed up." He said instead, and opened the front door.

The house had done a good job at retaining warmth, but he lit up the fireplace anyways. As both women made themselves comfortable in the living room, Jonathan headed upstairs to wash himself up and have a clean change of clothes.

He looked at himself in the mirror once more. The deathly pallor of his skin was still an unfamiliar sight to him, but his surprise came at the recent change in appearance of his eyes. What had once been white sclera had now become bloodshot, almost a uniform pale red. It wasn't inhuman enough to be suspicious to anyone, but to Jonathan, it looked rather monstrous.

Jonathan ignored his reflection for the remaining of his cleaning process. The fresh clothes provided a small relief, they made him feel a bit more human again.

Mary and lady Ashbury were having a quiet conversation. Jonathan stopped on the staircase to listen. 

"... is important for you to keep in mind. We still don't know what happened to him."

"But I trust Jonathan. He must be a victim in all of this.”

Jonathan sighed. If only it had been that simple. 

He didn’t quite feel the warmth of the fireplace when he walked into the room. Mary looked more comfortable at least. She had sat near Lady Ashbury, and seemed quite familiar with her. Jonathan sat opposite to them.

“Sorry I made you wait. I had quite an interesting night.” The clock marked a quarter to five.

It was Lady Ashbury who spoke first.

“Don’t worry, dear. The first night is always rough. If I may ask, how did this happen? could it be related to the dreams you talked about in our last meeting?”

Her eyes glistened in the dim light. Something about her, or rather Jonathan’s perception of her, had changed. The feeling of uneasiness that had once surrounded her was gone. Her eyes were still a piercing green, but he no longer felt threatened by them. They were now equals.

Would Jonathan produce those feelings onto others now that he was an Ekon too? Mary seemed all too calm around both of them. 

“Indeed. The true identity of my maker is still a mystery, but I finally know of his intentions.” Jonathan paused. He was unsure if he should tell the truth to Mary. “Whoever he might be, he claims this epidemic cannot be stopped by mortals, that I must become his ‘champion’ to do so. He has been mentioning this certain ‘Queen’ that must be fought.”

Although she didn’t respond, Jonathan didn’t miss the brief glimpse of recognition in Lady Ashbury’s eyes. It was Mary instead who broke the gloomy silence suffocating the room.

“Surely he couldn’t be asking you to commit treason against the British Crown is he?”

“I don’t- What?” Jonathan stuttered.

Mary put her hands up in the air. “I was trying to make a joke.”

Lady Ashbury shook her head lightly. There was a faint trace of a smile in her lips.

“Perhaps you know something about all of this, my Lady?” Jonathan asked her.

Lady Ashbury looked down to her lap and frowned. 

“I might have heard about something of the sorts. I would need to collect some information. Have you asked Edgar for any insight from the Brotherhood?”

Jonathan stood up to place more logs onto the fireplace. There was a semblance of heat to be found in the flames threatening to burn his skin.

“That is my next objective. Although it would have to wait until tomorrow.”

He gave the curtained windows a wistful look. To think he wouldn’t be able to see the sun anymore…

“I don’t understand.” Mary stood up all of a sudden. “Why did it have to be this way? Why Jonathan?”

“Mary…”

“No. I’ve had enough of this. I don’t want to lose you again.”

Jonathan grabbed her hand and brushed his thumb through its back in a soothing motion. He hated seeing her with such an expression of grief. She had seemed so cheerful the past few weeks. Just like she had once been.

“You won’t lose me. I’m still here."

It didn't reassure Mary in the least.

"Your hand is freezing cold." She said before leaving the room.

Jonathan was left alone in the room with Lady Ashbury. Only the slow burning of the flames and the ticking of the clock could be heard. An uneasy tranquillity. 

"You have fed. I can see it in your eyes." Though her expression remained neutral, there was a hint of disapproval in Lady Ashbury’s voice. 

"My eyes? How so?"

She turned towards the fireplace. A few seconds passed before she replied.

"The more one indulges in… feeding, the more they become stained in red." She clutched at her forearms. "And the harder it is to control the urge. I hope your sire has made that clear."

Jonathan sat on the nearest armchair. His foot tapped nervously while his brain tried to make sense of all that was happening.

"I'm afraid he was rather cryptic upon my awakening. He wasn't there in person either, but rather… a vision invading my mind.”

"I believe your maker is quite ancient. You should keep this quiet, lest you want to make some powerful enemies."

Lady Ashbury sat down again, on the seat next to where Mary had been.

"I will keep it in mind. Thank you, my Lady."

"There's no need for such formalities. You may call me Elisabeth."

"Only if you call me Jonathan."

That seemed to bring Elisabeth to smile briefly. 

"Of course, Jonathan."

After a few pointers and words of advice from Elisabeth on being an Ekon, Jonathan went upstairs to check on Mary. He found her on the bed, asleep on top of the sheets and still dressed with her street clothes. Jonathan carefully covered her with a blanket. 

Although he didn't regret his choice, he despised how he would have to watch her grow old and die. Before going to war, Mary had half-jokingly demanded him to return in one piece so they would age together. And despite coming back indeed, it would never happen. 

"Sleep well, Mary."

When Jonathan returned downstairs he was met with a concerned Elisabeth.

"How is she doing?"

"She's fast asleep." He whispered. "I am sorry for all the trouble I have given you both."

"I believe it's her you have to apologise to. She has lost so much…"

Jonathan raised his eyebrows.

"So she has told you then. Forgive my bluntness, but I was surprised at you two being acquaintances."

There was a strange look on Elizabeth's face. 

"Speaking frankly, I am too. But I am happy to have met her."

Jonathan finally identified what it was on her eyes. It was fondness.

"The sun will come up soon." Elisabeth sobered up. "I should be on my way home. And you, young Ekon, should get ready to rest."

Jonathan opened the door for her, and at the same time his eyebrows shot up. 

"Young Ekon?"

Elisabeth brought a hand to her lips to cover up a small smile.

"Forgive me. I was merely teasing." She stepped outside. The sky was still completely dark, but Jonathan could feel himself start getting tired. "If it's not much of a bother, I would like to visit you two tomorrow evening."

Jonathan was about to ask if she needed an extra jacket, until he remembered she was an Ekon too. Aside from the little details, she looked completely human.

"Mary would appreciate that. And I would too. See you tomorrow."

"Sleep well, young Ekon."

When the door closed, Jonathan let out a puff of air he didn't know he was holding. 

Before heading off to bed, he spent a few minutes looking at the sky from his balcony. He watched the clouds roll and unfurl and the colours change with the imminent dawn. Eventually a bone deep exhaustion started to overtake him. He headed back inside and closed the curtains. He had an eternity in front of him, but he would never again be able to enjoy the warmth of daylight.

The following evening Jonathan woke up when the sky was still a golden hue.The pang of thirst he had managed to keep in check the previous night was now back in full force. The house seemed normal as usual. Neither Avery nor his mother had seemed to notice anything amiss. 

"Ah, master Jonathan! Are you going to have dinner?" He was met with Avery carrying a metal tray in the hallway. "Your sister had commented you arrived late at night yesterday."

Jonathan saw Mary and Emelyne on the table, waiting for the meal. Avery had prepared cutlery and a plate for Jonathan as well.

"I'm afraid I'm not feeling too well." He came up with a quick excuse. "A minor stomach pain. Nothing to worry about."

Avery didn't doubt him. He was the doctor, after all.

"I understand. Let me know if you want some tea or anything of the sorts."

Jonathan walked into the dining room. Mary seemed to be in a better mood, and filled her plate as soon as the food was placed on the table. The braised lamb looked and smelled delicious, but it no longer triggered Jonathan's appetite. He would miss having proper meals. He already regretted not visiting any restaurant before becoming an Ekon. It was only worsened by the fact that, having only recently returned from war, he hadn't had the chance to enjoy hearty meals for long, much less ones with meat in it. It had become a rarity, especially in the poorest boroughs of London where the Pembroke was set.

Emelyne seemed to be struggling with cutting up the pieces of lamb in her plate. Time hadn't been kind to her, and despite still being a skilled artist, she had lost dexterity in all other aspects of life.

"Allow me, mother." Jonathan walked behind her and gently reached for her hands. Emelyne was briefly startled but she allowed him to lead her hands, much like she had once done to him when he was not much older than a toddler.

"Jonathan, dear. You're freezing!"

He let go of her. For a moment, he was terrified of what Emelyne would say.

"I'm sorry mother. I-"

"No excuses. You go warm yourself in the fireplace. What have I told you about playing in the snow?"

Mary started laughing and almost choked on her meal.

"And you, young lady, should remember your manners on the table."

Both siblings looked at each other and rolled their eyes, though they couldn't contain their smiles. 

Jonathan did, in fact, go sit in front of the fireplace, if only to pass the time before Elisabeth's arrival. He ended up looking through the window, snooping on other's lives in a way that stayed true to the Reid family. Nobody had expected Aubrey Reid, respectable banker of the West End, to have such an interest in gossip and rumours. He would come home in the evenings and tell them all about the new dramas of whichever family had checked their finances that day. And Jonathan hated to admit it, but he had inherited part of that. 

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary on the streets. It was drizzling, Miss Ashbury was protesting with a friend about women’s rights, Clarence was trying to warn others about the vampire threat…

Clarence. He hadn't talked to him in weeks. Jonathan hoped he was doing well. Would he hate him now that he had become the one thing he had sworn to fight against? His thoughts were interrupted by his best friend coughing his lungs out. He ended up kneeling on the pavement, hands on his throat, and when the fit stopped he seemed to be too weak to properly stand up.

Jonathan grabbed his coat and hurried to the front door with an "I'll be back soon." Curse his new nature and curse the risk of approaching Clarence. He was his best friend and he needed his assistance.

As soon as he approached, his newfound vampiric senses told him something was amiss. Clarence's heart rate and blood pressure weren't right. He didn't seem to notice him coming.

"Clarence? It's me, Jonathan." He only got a grunt as a response. "I'm taking you home."

He was very weak. He was all bones under his clothes and his skin was pale and clammy. What worried Jonathan the most is that he couldn't find a clear explanation for such an illness. The medicine he had given him weeks ago should have helped him regain strength.

Venus was quick to open the door, and as quick to usher both in. 

"Thank you, Jonathan. I don't know what’s wrong with him, but I keep telling him to rest!." Venus spoke frantically. "And instead of listening he keeps spreading his paranoid propaganda."

Jonathan didn't miss how she practically spat out those last words, or the way she kept glancing to the side. She was hiding something.

"I would like to stay for a bit, see what I can do for him if it's not an inconvenience."

Venus forced a smile.

"Of course not. Stay for as long as you need to. I'll go prepare tea for you both." Her footsteps were erratic as she hurried downstairs.

Jonathan waited for her to be gone to properly investigate. It was unbecoming of a gentleman, but it was for the greater good.

He found out through a journal Venus kept that Clarence was spending their fortune on the anti-vampire propaganda. Another motive for their marriage issues. Still, nothing that could hint at Clarence’s condition. The bathroom was not much better. None of the products the couple was using would risk their health or have any negative effects. First floor examined, he silently went to investigate downstairs. He heard Venus whisper.

"Just a bit longer…" 

Jonathan hid in the shadows the stairs created, and looked into the kitchen. Venus was humming as she prepared the tea. Nothing out of the ordinary, until she revealed the vial. Jonathan could smell it from a distance. It was poison.

A cold rage took over him. His best friend, being slowly murdered by his own wife. And for what reason? His shell-shock? His concern for others? It was unforgivable. Still, he forced himself to appear calm.

"Venus?" He gave her time to pocket the poison once more.

"Is everything in order?" She replied. Shortly after, she was out of the kitchen with the teacups in a platter. They locked eyes.

" _ You are responsible for Clarence's illness. _ " His words seemed to echo throughout the room. Venus seemed to freeze up for a moment.

"I can't take it anymore, Jonathan." Her voice was monotone, emotionless. "He is not the man I once loved. I have become the laughingstock of the neighbourhood."

Jonathan clenched his teeth. He felt his fangs slowly stretching, his thirst rearing out its ugly head.

"So you decide to end his life? And what if you are discovered?"

Venus's face was still completely blank, but anger could now be heard in her voice.

"Nobody will. The poison I'm using is untraceable."

Indeed it was, but someone knew of it now. The tray clattered against the ground. Tea spilled on the floorboards. Jonathan had grabbed Venus by the chin and whispered to her ear.

" _ Give me a reason not to end you now. _ "

He got no reply. Venus was still as a statue and at his full mercy. And Jonathan ached for a bite.

It would be for the best, he told the part of himself that was shouting inside of his head. People like her didn't deserve to live, people who put their interests in front of the wellbeing of others. It would be for the greater good.

His lips inched forwards to that warm neck. The tantalising blood was all there, waiting for Jonathan.

It was all for the greater good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know most of you aren't fond of a Jonathan that feeds on others but I believe he's more complex than just a pacifist doctor. Since Mary is still alive, he hasn't realised the consequences of him giving in to the hunger. But maybe he will soon...
> 
> Also does Venus deserve it? Probably not. I just hate how Jonathan won't try to save his best friend otherwise in the videogame.


	15. The Mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long! It went through a couple of iterations until I found the right one. The good thing is that means the next chapter is already partially written! So hopefully it will take less time.  
> As always, hope you enjoy!

In hindsight, Jonathan shouldn’t have stormed out of the house in such a way. He shouldn't have left Venus, now lifeless and drained of all blood, sprawled on the floor. Her last thoughts still echoed in his mind. 

" _I danced with you at my wedding. Jonathan, what have you become?"_

He scurried down a narrow alley before anyone could see him, blood still on his lips and beard. It was hard to regret his decision when the thrill of feeding was still running through his veins. Elisabeth was right, the more you knew the victim, the more satisfying their blood became.

A grumbling from a corner of the street interrupted his train of thought. The rubbish bins rattled as a figure stood up. Jonathan gracefully dodged the attack of the blinker skal. He thrust his arm to punch the creature when his hands turned into claws. They tore through the creature's skin like wet paper. Stale, sickly blood scented the air.

Jonathan jumped back to evade a counter, blending into the shadows. With a couple more strikes, the beast collapsed.

He was much stronger, much more powerful than ever. No skal could ever hold a chance against him. He could clear the streets faster than any Priwen squad.

Jonathan hesitantly licked the skal blood on his fingers. It was not as disgusting as he had expected, although not nearly as appetizing as a human's.

_What have you become?_

He cleaned out the rest of it with a handkerchief. It had his initials embroidered onto the silky fabric. Although he was expected home right away, he couldn't let there be skals so close to the main streets. It would simply take him a few minutes.

He scouted for skals from the rooftops. Jonathan could easily detect their foul blood and erratic heartbeats. It was nearly as simple to end their lives. The extent of his abilities wasn't limited to growing claws out of thin air. He found out he could also throw spears made out of literal blood, or call upon the shadows to stun the mindless beasts. He would have to ask Elisabeth more about his newfound powers.

Just as expected, it took him little time to clear the area, and only a few skals remained in a marketplace near the border with the East End. He realised too late that there weren't only undead assembled, and that a squad of Priwen soldiers were in the midst of battling them. 

"It's the doctor!" Someone shouted right away. The news had spread fast apparently, and now all of Priwen was aware of what he had become.

"Wait!" Jonathan tore through a skal's chest with his claws before he could injure a soldier. "I don't mean any harm!"

Bullets and bolts were shot towards him regardless. Jonathan evaded them as well as he could, along with the torches some of the men carried as weapons. Some bolts grazed him, the pain dulled by his quick regeneration. He ignored the living as much as he could, focusing only on the feral undead. Soon enough all the skals were defeated and it was him against Priwen.

"Quick, go get McCullum!" A man with a shotgun said to a much smaller, younger one, who ran from the marketplace and towards the East End. Jonathan held his hands up.

"Please!" Jonathan insisted. "I only want to help."

That only earned him looks of distrust and hatred. A rookie's arms were trembling.

"Don't look him in the eyes." Someone whispered. "Don't believe his words."

It was clear that no one in Priwen would see him as anything but an enemy. And there was no doubt in Jonathan’s mind that McCullum wouldn't be any better.

The Priwen leader appeared with a quick stride and a furious look in his eyes. Those same blue eyes faltered for a second when he stopped right in front of Jonathan. And then the fire returned to them. If looks could burn, Jonathan would have been long turned into ashes.

"Doctor Jonathan Reid." He growled. "It had to be you, hadn't it.”

Said doctor had to repress the urge to step forward. Otherwise, he’d gain more holes than an emmental cheese wheel, courtesy of the many Priwen soldiers aiming their guns at him.

“McCullum, I can explain!” Jonathan continued despite the hunter’s glaring. “This is all to stop the epidemic. I believe there is something ancient involved."

McCullum ripped a pistol out of the closest soldier's hand and aimed it right between Jonathan's eyebrows. It was so fast Jonathan didn't have time to react.

"This was Swansea's plan, wasn't it? To make a monster out of the good doctor? Or were you planning to become one all along?"

Jonathan had seen McCullum direct all his anger onto vampires before, but to witness it being directed at him was a different experience. It didn't help that they considered each other friends before being turned. 

"What? Edgar and I are trying to solve this epidemic! I'm still the same Jonathan."

It was pointless to try and sway McCullum's views, but a weight on Jonathan's chest forced him to do it anyway. Still, there was hesitation in Geoffrey's movements. Enough to move away right before he pulled the trigger.

Jonathan shadow jumped away, but found himself still cloaked in shadows. He had become invisible.

"Where is he?"

"He's disappeared!"

Everyone scrambled to find Jonathan, but he was already on his way out. He turned around one last time to look at McCullum. He stood there for a few seconds, gun still aimed at where Jonathan had once been. Then, as if a switch was flipped, he went into barking orders to his soldiers to spread out and search.

Jonathan returned home through the balcony of his bedroom. Although the Guard of Priwen didn't hunt vampires where civilians could be endangered, he didn't want to run the risk of exposing his family. He returned downstairs after a quick change of clothes. Dinner was long over and Mary and Emelyne were relaxing in the lounge, the former reading a book while the latter was simply sitting down by the fire.

"Welcome back." Mary whispered. "Did something happen? You left in quite a rush."

Jonathan noticed his mother was almost asleep on the armchair. She looked fragile, more than she'd ever been. She was no longer the calm and collected woman he once had looked up to.

"There is something I would like to bring up when Elisabeth arrives." He covered Emelyne with a blanket. Her eyes opened just enough to see a glimmer beneath the eyelashes.

"Aubrey dear? What time is it?"

That took Jonathan by surprise. Did he resemble his father that much?

_What have you become?_

"It's me, mother. Jonathan."

Emelyne closed her eyes again.

"Johnny? It's good to have you back..." She trailed off, this time falling asleep completely. Jonathan could sense it in the way her breathing slowed and heartbeat relaxed.

"She was upset you didn't join us for dinner." Mary commented without disguising her disappointment. 

Despite it all, Jonathan didn't want to hide the truth from her. Not when it haunted him so.

"I may- I may have made a mistake tonight. This condition has made me stronger, but at a steep price."

When he looked back at Mary, her eyes weren't filled with blind hatred, or even horror. They were filled with worry. 

That was somehow even worse.

"Let us wait for Elisabeth, shall we?" She left the book she had been reading on the table and stood up. "I'll go get Avery."

Jonathan helped the old butler bring Emelyne to her bed. She had woken up enough to stand up, but not to keep her balance or walk upstairs to her room on her own. Afterwards, he dismissed Avery for the night, insisting that they would serve their guest on their own.

Elisabeth came right on the clock, right as Jonathan was returning downstairs. Instead of her usual set of dark trousers and a jacket, she was wearing a simple yet elegant grey dress.

"Good evening." She didn't conceal a frown upon seeing Jonathan. "Is something the matter?"

"Please, come in." He opened the door further. "I will explain shortly."

Something in her mood seemed to shift when they made it to the lounge and Mary greeted her. Her smile seemed more genuine. They sat together just like in the previous night, and it was time for Jonathan to confess.

For a few seconds, he doubted. Perhaps it was best to say nothing, hide the truth for as long as possible. But the body would be discovered tomorrow morning, if not earlier, and questions would be asked.

Also, Jonathan was starting to fear what he was becoming, the temptation ever so present even when surrounded by his dearest family.

He talked about Clarence's state, and his discovery of what Venus had been doing.

"I let the thirst take over me. I was angry, frustrated…" Scared that he had realised too late that his friend was on the verge of death. 

Jonathan's thoughts drifted off to his time in the front. How many lives had he taken back then? It had been a matter of life and death back then, but now he had a choice.

Perhaps he hadn't fully returned from the battle. Perhaps he had left something there.

_What have you become?_

"What have I done?"

Cold, soft hands were suddenly on his. The touch brought him back to the present. 

"You are a young Ekon, and someone who has seen more death in your mortal life than many would in an eternity of unlife." Elizabeth's voice was soft, yet filled with sorrow. "The thirst is a curse we must learn to control, lest it makes a monster out of us."

Jonathan's breathing was erratic, despite no longer having a need for air. At least he wasn't sweating. One thing he discovered shortly after his turning was that vampires didn't sweat, or have any other bodily needs for that matter. They could still experience mild panic attacks, apparently.

Slowly, Jonathan was regaining his composure.

"I am sorry. I don't know what came over me."

Elisabeth stepped back. Mary was standing motionlessly.

"Venus… She's…" She trailed off with a tremble on her voice. "How could you?"

Although they weren't exactly friends, and the epidemic had distanced them, Mary and Venus had been good acquaintances. As the little sister, she had tagged alongside Jonathan and Clarence in their childhood, and had been introduced to Venus the same time Jonathan had. They had briefly formed a group together, in their teenage years.

"Mary, I…" Jonathan stepped forward and his sister jumped back. "She was poisoning Clarence, killing him!"

Mary straightened her back in a desperate attempt to hide her distress.

"So killing her was the solution?" 

"I acted without thinking. I regret the choice I made."

Jonathan gripped his vest to conceal the trembling of his hands.

"No." Mary's eyes were filled with tears, but also anger and sadness. "You're not the Jonathan I once knew."

_What have you become?_

She walked away as Jonathan and Elisabeth stood there. The older woman seemed hesitant between staying or going to comfort Mary. Jonathan made the decision for her.

"Go." And so she did, leaving Jonathan to his own thoughts.

Jonathan slumped against the armchair. When did human lives stop being the most important thing he valued? Where was it that he took the wrong turn? There was blood on his hands, but it had been there for years. 

When neither Elisabeth or Mary came back, and it was clear to Jonathan that they wouldn't return, he put out the fireplace and headed to his room. Sitting on his desk, he was greeted by a vase of wilted flowers. Everlasting love is only a myth, an empty promise. Perhaps kindness was the same, bound to wilt under the merciless passing of time.

Jonathan was suddenly reminded of the tarot reading Talltree had given them weeks ago. His card had been Death, and now it made perfect sense. Would the others make sense as well? At that point he was ready to believe that it wasn't chance what made those cards appear. 

Edgar had received the card of Judgement, but reversed. Did it represent an injustice? A mistake? Jonathan was far from an expert when it came to the esoteric. Perhaps it was yet to be clear. He had to visit the other doctor sooner or later, after all.

And then McCullum's card…

Jonathan looked at the flower again. If fate had been any more merciful for either of them, perhaps a great friendship could have blossomed between them. They would have made a great team. Jonathan admired the man, his determination and his tactical sense. And McCullum had seemed to see Jonathan in a similar way.

Oh.

The lovers. Bluebells. McCullum's reaction upon his turning.

Perhaps Jonathan's card should have been the fool instead.

Perhaps McCullum had wished for something more than a friend. And perhaps Jonathan wanted the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> A small reminder that I started another fic, a pirate fantasy AU called [The Heart of the Red Queen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26498137/chapters/64578106).  
> This one will take priority though, and I'll advance the other more sporadically as inspiration comes.


	16. The Reflection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!   
> Hope you enjoy and please remember to read the notes at the end this time! I have a bit of an announcement to make there.

As much as wallowing in his mistakes was a tempting activity, Jonathan had many things to do. It was long overdue he paid a visit to Edgar, and Sean was still on the loose after his rampage. 

With his newfound ability, Jonathan had no issue in reaching the Pembroke hospital undetected. He hesitated right in front of the tents. Would he be able to resist the temptation?

Instead of using the front door, he jumped into the balcony of his office undetected. From there, he could sense the patient's heartbeats on the floor beneath, but the urge was manageable. Thankfully, Edgar was in his office as usual.

He knocked on the door.

"Come in!" Edgar seemed too busy with some paperwork, the pile seemingly never-ending.

"Good evening, Edgar. I need to talk to you for a few minutes."

Edgar stamped a file and grabbed another to sign. 

"Ah Jonathan! I was surprised you didn't tell me you needed more free days." He glanced upwards for a moment. "It's good to-"

His eyebrows rose up as he did a double take. Much like anyone familiar with vampires, he could tell Jonathan was now an Ekon.

"You are…Is this why you were away? How did it happen? Please take a seat."

Of all the possible reactions, Jonathan didn't expect Edgar to be so… enthusiastic. He seemed eager to know more, a stark contrast to Elisabeth's concern and Mary's sadness. Not to mention McCullum's absolute rejection. He couldn't shake off his mind the latter's looks of betrayal and pure hatred. Although they had known each other only for a month, the bond they had formed had seemed quite deep at the moment. But there was no point in thinking about it. It was a lost cause.

Jonathan sat in front of Edgar's desk. The older man didn’t seem to notice his brief moment of sorrowful reflection.

“That is exactly what I wanted to talk about.” Jonathan explained. “I had some suspicions about the skal epidemic, but my maker has confirmed them. London, no, Europe is in danger unless we stop it.”

Edgar hummed absentmindedly.

“Your maker?”

“I don’t quite know of his identity, but he is extremely ancient. He was able to contact me through dreams, and later in a figure made out of blood.”

Edgar frowned in response.

“That doesn’t sound like the usual vampire. Are you sure you weren’t being mesmerised?”

Jonathan stood his ground. Something about Edgar had changed. He wasn’t the eccentric but trustworthy colleague anymore, but rather someone else playing that role. He seemed more concerned about Jonathan’s turning than about the epidemic. 

“I am certain. But most importantly, I need information the Stole might have on past epidemics, or any mention of a ‘Red Queen’. That is the next step to stop this madness.”

Edgar nodded absentmindedly while he wiped his glasses clean.

"I don't recall reading anything of the sorts, but perhaps Usher will know more. Although I fear such information may have fallen into the hands of Priwen." He shrugged. "I doubt that woodsman, McCullum, will be willing to help you now."

As much as Jonathan would have wished to refute that, he was right. Whatever could have blossomed between them was long lost. 

"You're right. We have met briefly tonight, and he wasn't on friendly terms. He believes you are responsible for my current condition, and I fear he might attack this hospital."

Edgar didn't seem the least bit bothered.

"His accusations are absolutely baseless. He should know by now that attacking this hospital would be attacking the Brotherhood itself."

That sounded like an exaggeration, though Jonathan couldn't quite disprove it.

"I still believe you should take precautions." 

"Your concern is unnecessary, but still appreciated."

Now that his biggest worries were out of the picture, a troublesome thought crawled into his mind.

"Is it alright for me to still work here given my… condition?"

Edgar stretched his arms in a dramatic welcoming gesture.

"Of course! You are still a great doctor after all. And as long as you are discrete with your feeding habits, I will make sure you are clear of any suspicion."

Indeed, Edgar seemed too enthusiastic given the situation. He had expected his support to be relieving while everyone had shunned him, but it had quickly become unsettling. What did it say of a man, if he was willing to look the other way on the murders of a monster? 

Although Jonathan didn't have any right to judge. He had now little humanity left that was keeping him from becoming said monster.

"Thank you." Said Jonathan instead of voicing his worries. He left the office and stood in front of the staircase for longer than what would have seemed natural. 

The nurses flitted about as Jonathan sensed the sickly heartbeats of patients. It smelled of old blood, remains of it still on the poorly cleaned floor. He could do it. He could resist the temptation.

He couldn't, however, resist himself from growing frustrated at Ackroyd's remarks. The doctor had been wary of Jonathan since the beginning, and his frequent "breaks" only worsened Ackroyd's perception of him.

"Ah, look who has finally returned. Do you plan on working this time?"

Jonathan didn't bother replying, and instead got to work. He focused on patients that didn't have any form of external haemorrhage, although the temptation was still quite present. The Hippocratic oath proved to be his best weapon against such primal instincts. The wellbeing of the patients came first.

It was a pleasant surprise that his new senses allowed him to detect various illnesses and ailments. He was able to separate the cases of Spanish flu from those of unrelated respiratory infections, thus preventing complications and further spreading the virus. Helping others made him feel more human.

Jonathan was tending to the patients in the tents outside when a cry for help reached his ears. He asked nurse Branagan to finish administering the medicines as he ran towards the sound. Good thing he had remembered to bring weapons, just in case. If it came to protecting civilians from skals, he would have to hide his true nature.

A perk of his superhuman strength was that he could carry many items under his coat without being dragged down. He had filled his pockets with medicine, first aid items and tools, a hacksaw, a handgun, and of course his trusty bludgeon. 

“Please, sir! I need help!” A blond man paced frantically by the river until he saw Jonathan.

"I am a doctor. What is the emergency?"

The man was breathing heavily, overtaken by emotions.

"It's my mate, Oswald. He ran into the sewers. I heard him scream. He's in danger!"

Jonathan placed his hands on the man's shoulders. He could feel the way his heart raced dangerously.

"Calm down, sir. I will go find him." He reassured, as he nudged the man to sit on the stairs. He didn't want to deal with the man fainting on the ground, or worse, falling into the canal. He had many questions for him, like his name to begin with, but the safety of his colleague came first and foremost.

The nearest entrance to the sewers had been locked from the inside. Jonathan walked a few metres to another gate, which was thankfully open. It wasn't his first time in the sewers of London, but he hadn't expected to have to return to them again. The stench was awful, and Jonathan's enhanced smelling made it even worse. It was barely tolerable by the familiar scent of fresh blood, which was far from good news. He kept a quick pace until he found the first skals, hunched over a dead body.

They were dealt with quickly, as well as the skals he found in the following chamber. A few lifeless bodies had been left around to be devoured and never be found. It reminded Jonathan of his time during service, where many bodies had been left to rot in the trenches, or were simply impossible to recover. Families would mourn empty caskets and be left to wonder what their loved one's last moments had been like.

As a man's pleading for help grew louder, so did an unnatural rumbling from within the walls. It culminated in a large, vaguely humanoid figure appearing from the ceiling to block Jonathan's path. Its skin was a dark grey, covered in brown fur in certain areas. Although its musculature and body shape seemed quite human, its face was elongated and ears pointed not unlike a wolf. 

Jonathan had no time to process what was really happening. The creature lunged towards him and he dodged, but only just. In frustration, it let out an unnatural screech that stunned Jonathan for a few instants.

"What in the-" He wasn't able to finish his sentence, as the beast struck again. This time, Jonathan acted fast, stepping aside and then hitting back with his bludgeon. The creature was built like a tank, taking any hit without even blinking. Eventually, Jonathan landed a hit on its deformed head, stunning it long enough for him to sink his fangs on its neck. The blood had a vile taste, not unlike a skal, although unique. Whatever that creature was, it seemed within the realms of the undead.

Draining its blood was a right move, as the creature became more desperate and attempted to bite Jonathan back numerous times. It left many openings to the young Ekon who, through a war of attrition and wits, was able to bring the beast to the ground. 

Jonathan didn't stay for long to examine the beast, but he took some blood samples for later. Following the desperate cries for help, Jonathan went downstairs into an open room. A few skals had gathered against a set of bars separating them from who Jonathan assumed was Oswald. Neither man nor undead noticed him approach. Oswald had curled up into a ball, his heartbeat and heavy breathing were signs of a panic attack. It at least gave Jonathan the advantage of not having to conceal his true strength, as he quickly brought the fight to an end.

The explanation as to why the skals hadn’t killed Oswald yet came when Jonathan was able to open the door, but not walk through it: the strange, unexplained rule of vampires needing permission to enter. And the man certainly didn’t want anyone to do so in his situation. 

“Please, calm down Oswald.” Jonathan regretted not having asked any questions before rushing to his rescue. “Your friend has sent me here, I am a doctor.”

“I can’t breathe. I gotta- I gotta get out…” Oswald muttered between breaths.

Jonathan crouched down. 

“You are safe now. I have- I have driven off the thugs.” Jonathan bit his lip with a fang that refused to fully retract back. There was too much blood around.

Thankfully, none of it was Oswald’s. He seemed uninjured.

“Please, let me help you. Your friend is waiting for you outside.”

Oswald nodded, and Jonathan felt that invisible wall vanish. The man seemed more relaxed as well, standing up slowly. Jonathan placed a gentle hand against his shoulder blades and nudged him out of the cell. If he noticed the skal corpses on the ground, he didn’t say it. But Jonathan assumed his mind was someplace else. He’d seen it in many soldiers, the paralysing fear that overwhelmed their senses and brought back ugly memories. Jonathan was fortunate enough to have only been victim of the nightmares, and he dreamed no longer in his new state of being. 

A weight seemed to get off of Oswald’s chest as they reached the surface and the cold night air reached their faces.

“Newton!” Oswald called, stepping out of Jonathan's hold. 

The blond man turned his head and practically ran towards them. Oswald closed the distance.

“Oh Oswald, I’m so sorry.” Newton’s hands rose up but stopped mid air. It was the other man who met them with his own. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m alright.” He replied, squeezing his hands. Newton’s eyes darted towards Jonathan, hesitant.

He felt like he was intruding on something too intimate. Although Jonathan didn’t want to assume, the two men seemed to be closer than just friends, and if that was the case, they had a reason to hide themselves from prying eyes.

Oswald didn’t seem too concerned, though, as he let go and instead grabbed Newton by the forearms and leaned forward. It was almost a hug, but from a distance no one could see it as such.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have run off like that.” He let go and turned to Jonathan. “Thank you, uh.”

Jonathan brushed off his coat. He had made his best efforts to keep it clean, but he was sure that it had stained in many places. Still, in the dark of the night no one but him would be able to tell from what.

“Doctor Jonathan Reid. I believe we haven’t formally introduced.”

Both men tilted his head lightly. It was Newton who spoke first.

“I am Newton Blight and this is Oswald Thatcher. We are very thankful for your help.”

Jonathan hummed in response. He wanted to go back to tending to patients, but his work was far from done.

“If I may ask, what brought you, Mr. Thatcher, to hide in the sewers?”

Both men looked at each other before Oswald spoke up.

“We had a fight. I- Newton tried to convince me to go to the hospital.” His gaze lowered. “But I can’t bear it, sir. I can’t bear the idea of being locked up in there.”

Jonathan brought a hand to his beard. From his reaction in the sewers, he could already tell Oswald had a fear of being enclosed, but it turned out to be more severe than he initially thought.

“There is no need to be ashamed. Claustrophobia is a common fear for those with experiences in the trenches.” Jonathan reassured. “As a doctor, I am committed to helping others, but I will not force you to anything without your permission.”

That seemed to soothe both men’s nerves. Oswald sighed in relief as Newton nodded awkwardly.

“I would like to propose a deal. There have been recent studies that suggest there may be therapeutical effects in talking about one’s fears and painful experiences.” Jonathan recalled reading it in a science magazine shortly after arriving at London. It also talked about how many soldiers returned home mentally scarred and riddled with anxiety. “I would like to help you in such a way, if you are interested, of course.”

Oswald’s eyes lit up, but before he could speak up, Newton stepped forward. His hand touched his mate’s as he nudged him backwards. 

“No offense, doc, but how can we trust you? We don’t want rumours to spread because we talked to a nosy doctor of our private matters.”

Jonathan didn't miss the small gestures, the fear, the protectiveness. He had lived through it before, in his years at medical school. The secret touches and private moments had made it all the more exhilarating, but didn't allow for meaningful relationships to truly last.

"I am sworn by my oath to maintain the privacy of my patients." Jonathan paused. He thought he heard a familiar voice in the distance, but ignored it. "I have seen many soldiers come together at the frontlines, finding companionship within each other. Believe me when I say I disagree for that form of affection to be shunned." 

He brought a hand to his practically unbeating heart. The men looked indecisive for a few moments.

"You saved my life." Spoke Oswald. "So I trust you, doctor." He looked at his partner, who finally relented.

"I guess it's for the best. It's just- we come back from risking our lives for this country, and we still have to fight to be accepted. Curse it all, it's not fair."

Oswald leaned against Newton in a comforting gesture.

"Indeed, it is most unfortunate." Jonathan's thoughts drifted off, but were brought back by that voice again, this time clearer.

He turned his head towards the canal. On the other side, a group of skals on the run, followed by three men. Jonathan recognised the one on the lead.

"What a shame what London has become these days." Commented Newton. "Thugs and criminals at every corner. They should all disappear." 

The Priwen patrol finally cornered the skals and eliminated them swiftly. As two men piled up the corpses for better cleanup later, their leader stared back at Jonathan.

Geoffrey's eyes were unreadable, hidden behind his usual frown. Jonathan had half a mind to wave at him, but instead remained unmoving in a way that no mortal ever could. Deathly still. Geoffrey simply glared back, his fingers curling around the sword that always hung from his hip.

It was Jonathan who broke eye contact first, interrupted by a question he didn't quite hear.

“Pardon?”

He let out a breath as his subconscious remembered he wasn't alone, and so he should play the part of a living human.

“I was asking about the time for those sessions.” Oswald repeated. “Is something the matter, doctor?”

Jonathan turned his head to the other side of the canal once more. McCullum had disappeared, as well as his voice in the distance.

"It's nothing. I shall organise my agenda and tell you tomorrow evening, if it's not an inconvenience."

The Ekon returned to the hospital deep in thought. His career and the health of others had always come first in his life. He had known that through his turning he had chosen a path of solitude. Besides, was he really worthy of love? Not only he had sacrificed his humanity, he had embraced his new nature, feasted on human lives like a monster. No, their fates had meant to cross but never to intertwine. 

Jonathan finished his rounds at the hospital and headed for the docks. It was high time he paid a visit to the Sad Saint of the East End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for reading!   
> I will be taking a semi-hiatus for this fic in which I'll be reworking on the first few chapters. I feel like my writing has improved so much these past months and I have to thank you all for encouraging me since the beginning.   
> I don't know how long it'll take but I have other works in progress that I might finish in between, so I won't disappear completely.


End file.
